Of Badassness & Superiority Complexes
by becauseilikepenguins
Summary: Spoilt, selfish, and selfcentered Kurt Hummel has been lonely for a while. Having everything you want at the most minimal request, isn't all what it's cut out to be. A simple misunderstanding unravels quite an interesting turn of events. .Badboy!Blaine
1. Chapter One

**[A/N]**: **Just my lame attempt at writing badboy!blaine, I hope it's not too bad. :)**

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><p>The lawns are green, bright green, trimmed daily. The houses are big, grand, expensive. Everything that can be seen, be touched; from the fancy, extravagant cars to even just the <em>air <em>you breath in screams _upper-class._

Kurt breezes down the street without a second glance, without even a care in the world. He's used to it, this is his _home._

The sun can barely be seen across the horizon, the sky tinted with the silky lilacs and blues of twilight. It's getting late, more of those top notch cars round the corner to enter The Avenue and slot into their respective driveways. People file into their homes, faces blurred, every which one seemingly the same as the other.

Most of all it's calm, though, nobody wants to pull too much attention to themselves. In these kinds of societies it's always best to lay low. To mind your own business. Gossip spreads _fast_, it's best to keep what you know to _yourself. _You don't step out of line, you just stand there and look pretty—_better _than everyone else, everyone that can't afford what you can_. _And in some way, whether you mean it or not, you help spread that false sense of aristocracy, somewhat, because once your a part of a neighbourhood like this, there's no turning back. You're sucked in, morphed, changed into something indistinguishable. The worst thing is though—_you don't even know that it's happening. _Until it's too late, that is.

With the soft _'tap-tap' _of designer boots on the pavement, Kurt walks down the street. Nose upturned and back ramrod straight. Eyes cold, challenging, emotionless, narrowing at whoever deems to look his way. An air of narcissism circles him.

He's a prime example of what being brought up in The Avenue can make of a person, or—that's what it _seems,_ anyway. With his somewhat boastful demeanor. With his irrevocable _'I'm much better than you' _attitude. But still, even then, he's quiet. He keeps to himself. He hardly ever even _talks._

He's beautiful, yes, but he's also _broken._

It had all started quite a few year ago, with Burt and Ellie's sudden move from Lima. It seemed to have happened practically overnight. One day the residents of The Avenue were stuck just driving past that charming, yet unoccupied manor at the end of the street, on the corner, at the entrance, and then the next—_bam! _New neighbours.

It was quite a rare occurrence, that, since normally, if planning to move into The Avenue, the current residents would already know every single little detail of your life months before you'd even moved in. That wasn't the case with the Hummels, though. They were new, exciting—_unexpected._

They were different, that was clear, and their neighbours just couldn't quite decide whether that was a good thing or not. Whether it was okay. Whether it would tarnish their immaculate reputation in any way, at some point. That was the problem.

When they'd arrived—sick and tired of prejudiced looks, of the judgemental frowns, of the gossip, of the icy environment—Burt and Ellie were only young, young and _in love._ They longed for independence, a life of their own. They'd run away. Run away from their families, from the people who loved them. They'd run away from denied acceptance, looming looks and snide glances. Lima hadn't wanted them. They were different, they were wrong. They were too young, once ago.

They don't want to bring a kid up like that, they want her—maybe him—to be happy, to be loved. So they'd run. Packed their bags in the dead of night and were gone long before the sun rose.

Burt's job as a mechanic had done them well in the long haul, even if Ellie's parents had deemed it unsuitable for their daughter. It had won them enough money to branch out into other parts of Ohio, into somewhere where, maybe, _just maybe, _they'd once and for all find sanctuary, _a home._

Never would they have imagined that they'd be able to afford a spot on The Avenue, one of the most prestigious and high-class parts of the Westerville district. It seems surreal at first, but with time they settle down, learn to adapt, and everything just seems to go on perfectly from there. Everything falls into place.

It's not long after that that Kurt—their son—is born, and with that their new life at The Avenue finally seems to take it's course. People from neighbouring houses coming to visit them quite often, struck by the sheer innocence, _beauty _of Kurt that they just couldn't keep away.

The Hummels were new, the Hummels were _different._

And soon enough they're sucked in. Pocked and prodded until they're just a mere shred of the person they once were. Burt becomes declined, burying himself in his work and is hardly ever at home. Ellie pays it no mind, blinded by the feeling of self-importance that flows through her body with all the attention she gets from everyone else. She frequents fancy galas, and has afternoon tea with all the rest of their pompous neighbours nearly every other day, barely making time for Kurt, barely realising what she's turning herself into.

Kurt is left to spend his time with the maid, Annie. Ellie's reason being that they pay her for _something, _the cleaning and the cooking being not nearly enough. So Annie, at the tender age of nineteen, takes on the job of caring for Kurt. Caring for the beautiful, yet confused little boy who'd been so easily thrown aside by, once, doting and caring parents.

His eyes are big, wide, glistening. They shine at all times. Their colour quite hard to pinpoint, a lovely mixture of blues, greens and greys. His skin is pale white, not at all sickly though, not in the least. Porcelain is what comes to mind when you first eye him. A small scatter of freckles adorns his cheeks.

Big wide orbs look up at you and you're blown away, blown away by the sheer innocence, the difference they have from other little kids eyes, the beauty. Situations like this always entail fawning, cooing from many of Ellie's new group of elite friends.

His neck tends to take on a tinge of pink, the same tinge that laces up to his ears and twirls around to his cheeks in a blush. He sometimes tries to make it go away, hands curled into tiny fists and rubbing insistently into his face. This only earns him more cooes and pinches of the cheek by all those strange, screeching women his mom calls friends.

Kurt really doesn't know what to think of it.

* * *

><p>Kurt's hair is really soft, Annie thinks as she cards the brush through his chestnut locks, standing behind little Kurt as he stares at himself in his vanity. She thinks about how wide and pure his eyes look. How sweet and adorable he is.<p>

She's really grown close to him over these past few years. And he's grown to be extremely dependent on her, too. It breaks her heart, though, to think about what he must be going through. To have seen how, with growing up, that small innocent boy has changed so much.

_He looks exactly like his mother._

She shakes her head, ridding herself of such thoughts. He looks just how his mother _used _to look like. That petite, lovely woman that had first hired Annie all those years ago. With the bubbly personality, the bright eyes and the warm smile. The woman kind enough to offer shelter to a little girl who had lost her way, who had been stripped of everything she loved and cared for. She was wonderful, she was _perfect. _But then she changed, and now Annie doesn't even recognize her.

She sighs, running her hands through Kurt's silky hair, smiling fondly at how his eyes squint in a sort of glare.

Burt's barely at home now, either, spending most of his time fixing cars in the garage trying to keep his mind off of the impending situation that is his wife's well-fare. Ellie has changed, and not for the better. She's not doing good, everybody can see it.

Her skin is pale, sickly, and her hair has lost all it's shine. Her eyes are blank and her face emotionless. She drinks a lot, too, but Annie tries to push those thoughts to the back of her mind.

It's been a year and half since she got diagnosed with cancer. It's been a year and a half since she's known she doesn't have that much longer to live. It's been a year and a half since she realised how she's been wasting her life. Too intent on money and prosperity, neglecting her family, her _son._

But she'd still resigned herself to spend any time with him, closing in on herself and completely cutting off from Burt and Kurt. If she only had little longer to live, she didn't want to spend it with them. Didn't want to learn to love them again, and then have that taken away from her. Didn't want to give her little Kurt the chance of having a mother to love and that loved him back, just so that it would be ripped away from his little hands at such a tender age.

So she'd turned to drink, and there'd been no more talk on the matter.

Hoisting Kurt up, Annie carries him downstairs. He wraps his arms and legs around her, keeping himself secure, and then rests his head atop her shoulder. Muttering excitedly about all the things he wants to do at the park today. Annie can't help but let her mind drift to thoughts of how brave Kurt must be, at the tender age of seven, to be blatantly ignored by both parents and still be so lively. So happy.

She thanks god that he hasn't turned jaded, cynical, and that he doesn't let it get to him. That he powers through it without a care in the world. That now, whenever he asks Annie when his mommy and daddy are gonna come visit him and the only he answer he gets is _'they're busy, honey, maybe some other time', _he barely even lets his face fall. Doesn't even look the least bit disappointed, the least bit sad, _unwanted._

Sometimes Annie wishes she knew how to read his mind, know what he's thinking, know that he really is _okay. _That he's not just keeping it all in so other people won't see how weak he is. How vulnerable. But then again, _he's only seven._

So she nods, once again pushing all unwanted thoughts far away to the back of her mind. She kisses the top of his head as she buckles him into the back seat of the car. Chuckles fondly at Kurt when he beams up at her, kissing her cheek before she moves away.

And _he's beautiful, _she thinks, _inside and out._

* * *

><p>Kurt has decided that he <em>absolutely hates <em>Rachel Berry. Or at least—he really _dislikes _her, since Annie says that hate is a really not-nice word.

Rachel thinks that she's great, that she's better than _Kurt _and—Kurt doesn't like that. People tell him he's perfect and really pretty all the time. People _never _say that to Rachel Berry. And she's really loud, her voice grates at his ears. She screeches. And she _always _wants to play _Little Mermaid _when Kurt is at the park and she _always _wants to play _Ariel _and—_no, _Kurt wants to play Ariel. He doesn't like being Prince Eric.

Rachel Berry is _stupid._

Or at least that's the only thing that goes through Kurt's mind that day, at the park, surrounded by little girls and their mothers fawning over him. Rachel Berry sits at the other end of the park, alone, on a swing, looking longingly in Kurt's direction. Kurt wants to go and play because, even though he doesn't _like _her, anything sounds better now than being cornered by all these old ladies and their screaming daughters.

Screaming daughters with sticky hands that keep trying to touch Kurt's _clothes _and—no, that's unacceptable. He tries to discreetly move away.

It's not like he doesn't like the attention, anything but, he _welcomes _it_. _It's just that…sometimes it gets a bit too much. Unbearable. Kurt feels like he's trapped.

He looks towards Rachel Berry again but, she no longer looks at him, she's preoccupied talking to her daddies. Because she has _two _and—and Kurt doesn't even _know_ what to think about it but at least that's better than having no parents at all, right? Or parents that ignore you. Parents that don't _want _you.

He sniffles a bit, looking away and stubbing his foot into the ground, making small circles. His hands tangle together behind his back as he looks up at all the looming faces of the cooing adults, as his eyes jump from head to head of their screeching and whining children. _Sticky _children.

Kurt _really hates _Rachel Berry, especially in moments like this when, even though he's the center of attention, he still feels so empty and _lost. _As if he wasn't meant for all of this. Rachel Berry has two daddies. Two daddies that _love _her and—and Kurt has _nothing. _Nobody. _It kills him._

He sniffles again, rubbing at his nose and shaking his head slightly. Annie always says not to let it show when he's sad, when he's feeling vulnerable. She always tells him to have courage, be _brave _and not let people think he's weak.

So he breaths in, looks up, and sends a dazzling smile towards his expectorates. Says the first mildly adorable thing that comes to his head and—_already _he's started them off again. They pinch his cheeks, they squeal. The little girls tug at his shirt, at his hands, at _whatever they can touch _to try and convince him to go and play with them.

He shakes his head, pointing over to where Annie had walked off to a few moments ago, asking the mothers there to mind Kurt while she was gone. She was one the phone, she looked_ worried._

He pays it no mind, telling the small crowd that has gathered around him that he's leaving soon and that they'll just have to play another day. He then smiles, for effect, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks over at Rachel Berry and—once again she's looking at him, taking her parents for granted and ignoring them completely, too intent on gazing jealously at Kurt.

And Kurt tries not to act too smug—he has this very incessant urge to poke his tongue out at her, but keeps this to himself in favour of looking too childish and immature—he _knows _that what Rachel Berry craves most is popularity. _The spotlight. _Everything that Kurt has, but doesn't need. Doesn't _want._

All _he_ wishes for are a mommy and daddy that love him as much as Rachel's daddies love her. Rachel has _everything—_in Kurt's mind—and she _still wants more._

That's why Kurt Hummel _really hates _Rachel Berry—because she's _selfish._ Deep down though, he knows that _he's _selfish too. Kurt Hummel _also _really hates himself. Sometimes.

* * *

><p><em>"Bring Kurt home." <em>Is the first thing Annie hears when she answers her mobile phone. It's Burt, voice croaky but soft and instantly she knows something has happened. Something bad. Something _horrible._

She places a hand on Kurt's shoulder, answering the questioning look shot her way by gripping the phone tighter and pointing away, by the trees, as if to say she'll be right back. Kurt nods, eyes shining but looking tired, and turns back to his crowd of admirers with a barely audible sigh.

"Mr. Hummel?" she asks tentatively, fiddling with one of the buttons of her pea-coat, tucking her nose deeper into her scarf. "Has something happened?"

And he takes a while to reply, Annie can hear the waver in his breathing through the phone. Burt's never been that good with words, mostly answering things with either a grunt or a scratch to the head. He's more of an actions kind of guy, but most of the time he has trouble expressing himself even through that. Breathing out slowly, he mutters _"It's Ellie. She's in the hospital, she—she's not going to make it."_

Annie gasps, biting her lip and nearly loosing her grip on the phone. She nods quickly, nervously even though she's aware that Burt can't actually see her. "I—yes, Mr. Hummel. I'll bring him straight home." A her thumb fumbles to find the end-call button.

Her mind has gone sort of fuzzy, she feels numb all over. Staggering her way over to the crowd of mothers and children that have surrounded Kurt, she can't bear to think what Burt must feel like. If she, _the maid _has gotten so worked up, imagine him. Him with his pent-up emotions. Him with his difficulty expressing himself. _What will Burt do now, without Ellie? _They may have not been as close as they once were but—one thing was obvious, Burt _loved _Ellie. That was one thing Annie was sure would never change. Just like Burt loved Kurt, even through his neglect. Just like Ellie, even in her darkest times, kept Burt and Kurt at the forefront of her mind.

"Kurt!" Annie calls out absently, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

The boy looks up, eyes wide and bright, smile big and teeth showing. His face falls slightly at her hunched over shoulders, at how worried, shocked she looks. He knows there's something wrong, he's smart, he can tell, Annie just wishes she was strong enough to show indifference. For Kurt, at least, so he can hear the news from his dad, from somebody close, from somebody he loves.

Annie doesn't talk, the colour drained from her face. She takes Kurt over to the car by the hand, the warmth from it the only reassuring thing in her haze.

The car ride home is stifling, the silence awkward. Annie can tell Kurt wants to ask why, by the way he fidgets in his seat, by the way his fingers tangle together in his lap, but she can't bring herself to say a word. She's not strong enough, she'll let Burt do it. Gripping the wheel tighter, she sighs, pulling into their home on The Avenue.

Kurt doesn't even wait for her to unbuckle him, doing it himself and shooting out of the car. She lets him go, watches him as she tries to calm down. Even the air feels thick with foreboding, as if something bad is going to happen. As if something bad _has _happened. She doesn't want to be there when Kurt finds out, it'll break her heart. He's the closest thing she has ever had to a child of her own, being ripped away from that privilege at the tender age of 17, kicked out of her home because of some silly mistake and left to fend for herself.

She breaths in. With a shake of the head she convinces herself not to think of those things. Kurt's not her baby, her baby is _gone. _Kurt belongs to Ellie, to Burt, _to them—_Annie should let go. But she can't deny how much he means to her, and seeing him hurt makes _her _hurt.

So she gets out of the car and slowly walks across the little path made across the lawn, from the white picket-fence to the stairs of the porch. It feels like an eternity has passed when she finally reaches the door, hand shaking slightly. She goes to grab the handle, pull it down and push open but she stops abruptly. _Sobbing. _She hears sobbing and—she _can't _go in there, she _can't _comfort Kurt, she can't even _face _him. She can't. _She won't._

So she turns, heads back down the street aimlessly, teeth quivering from the cold and her breath coming out in puffs of what seemingly looks like smoke. She buries her nose in her scarf, breathing in the faint sent of vanilla and coconut that she always gets from carrying Kurt around. From having Kurt _close. _Her eyes clench shut at the memories of that night so long ago, alone and heartbroken in a hospital, a small little bundle in her arms that she knew she'd have to give up in a matter of minutes.

She might not know what it feels like losing a mother, but she definitely knows what it's like to lose a child. And deep down, though she tries to hide it, just how Kurt is like the son she never had, she is the mother he'd always longer for.

But in that moment, when Kurt is so hurt, fragile and vulnerable, when he's so needing of the comfort she has to offer—she can't muster up the strength to give it. To hold him in her arms and tell him everything will be okay. _She's selfish. _After all that Kurt has given her, unknowingly but still, after all those years that his presence had helped put back the pieces of her shattered heart. Helped her through all the hurt and hardships of giving up a child and—she can't even repay that kindness. Can't be there for him when he needs her most.

_He'll hate her—_but nonetheless, at least she _deserves _it.

* * *

><p>Kurt stops talking, stops smiling, stops singing. His pale skin now does look sickly, his bright eyes, well, no longer bright. Annie can't help the thought that now, yes, he really does look like his mother. With dark rings under his eyes and body frail and lifeless. He doesn't come out of his room. He <em>won't <em>come out of his room. He refuses to speak to Annie, and very rarely Burt, too.

Days, weeks, months pass. Nobody really seems to notice. Their lives are just a haze, a blur. _They still haven't let go._ People often come by, with a shy—kind of reassuring—smile they ask how they're doing. It's very seldom they get a clear, non-mumbled or one-word answer. They're not doing well, that's kind of obvious. So what really, do they expect?

Annie had fully expected that Burt would have gone back to his old neglecting ways, burying himself in his work and ignoring what truly matters. It comes as a shock to her to be proven wrong, Ellie's death had changed Burt and—this time, for the better. He works hard to make Kurt happy again, to pull him out of his shell and show him that he's still loved, adored by all. To make him _better._

Burt is clueless, though, hopeless it seems because no matter what he does, his Kurt still doesn't come back. He's far away, Burt knows he's losing him, just like he lost Ellie. So he fights, fights as hard as he can. Annie watches on the sidelines, not knowing what to do. Kurt doesn't need her anymore—he doesn't w_ant _her anymore.

Nothing works. Nothing at all.

There's only one option left, to Burt, at least. One he'd promised Ellie he'd never turn to. Things like this, they leave people jaded, lifeless, ignorant to what truly matters in life. Like Ellie had, blinded by money and popularity—she'd never want the same for Kurt.

_Burt uses his money._ He buys Kurt everything he can possibly think of. He makes sure he goes to all the best schools. It's always bigger,_ better _than all of the other kids'.

Slowly the old Kurt comes back, or at least that's what it seems. What Burt doesn't notice though, is that this, in fact, is not the old Kurt. No, far from it, really.

Yes, maybe his skin no longer looks sickly but its former porcelain shine. His eyes are bright again. He smiles. He talks. He sings. But he's not the old Kurt, no. This Kurt is far from the shy, attention seeking boy. The one that craved emotions, hugs, just _contact._

He demands attention—not that there's any actual demanding needed—boys, girls, men, women alike. They all smother him in it. He doesn't need to ask.

He's smart too. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it. He never has to think much on it though, with just a simple mention to his father it's already there, handed to him on the likes of a silver platter.

He's becoming what Ellie dreaded most. A selfish, spoilt, narcissistic person. A person who only cares for himself. He's becoming _her._

Annie can see it, see what he's growing into, from the little perch she has on the sidelines of his life. They barely talk anymore, Kurt doesn't even _look _at her. But she still feels for him, she cares, and she's scared of what he's turning into. What the money and popularity are making of him.

But it's far from that, being like this is the only way Kurt knows. Has _grown _to know—he can't help it. He might have grown up being loved by all but, he's also feels lifeless, lonely, all on his own at the top. Annie can see that, she wants to help but she _can't. _She knows this is something Kurt has to overcome on his own and—even if it's leaving him alone again, in a moment of need, of vulnerability, it's what she _has _to do. There's no other option.

And Burt is great, Kurt knows that, but it's not like he understands why Kurt likes clothes so much. Or why he spends hours doing his hair or rubbing different creams and lotions on to make his skin look even better.

Burt really doesn't understand what he's doing wrong. Kurt might be talking again, but he's not the same as before. He's cut off, unsociable, thinks himself better than everybody else. He doesn't know what else to do than spoil Kurt rotten even if he's sure that it doesn't help his case, it still sorts things out s_omewhat—_makes Kurt content for the time being, at least until there's something else he wants.

Burt knows that Kurt's unhappy, that he hides behind his dad's money because it's the only thing that he thinks can get him what he really wants, what Kurt doesn't realise is that really, no matter how hard he tries, he can't buy himself happiness._ He can't bring his mum back._

What Kurt really needs? Something as simple as a friend. But it's not simple though, Kurt has grown to know that. People only want to use him, either for his looks or for his money but—always for some ulterior motive, never because they _actually _want to spend time with Kurt.

In actuality, that's what leaves Kurt jaded, monotone. Not the money, yet what side effects it brings with it. It's why he closes himself off, uses his status as a way to make himself feel better. Above everyone else. It's the only thing that seems to _work._ It's the only thing that—in his mind—brings him closer to his mother.

He may be spoilt, yes, and he may be narcissistic too but, it's not his fault, _really._

All in all, Kurt grows thinking that he's better, that there is nobody out there who is up to his limit, nobody out there that is worthy of his time and affections.

Or that's what it may seem. What he makes people think. Truly, he only acts like that because really? He's too scared to get hurt. To be affectionate to somebody, to fall in love. Because the very few times he has? It's all been for the popularity of dating Kurt Hummel. It's either his looks or his money.

This, this here, is what makes Kurt Hummel who he is today.

* * *

><p>Thanks to his father Kurt attends the most prestigious high school in Westerville: <em>Crawford Country Day.<em>

He's seventeen now, and has never had to work for anything. It either comes naturally—like his looks, for example—or it gets bought by his father. Contrary to popular beliefs though, Kurt does not only care about himself. He might have grown spoilt, pampered, but that only makes him love his father that tid bit more. Burt is the only thing he has left, the only person he can afford to let in, to show his emotions to. To be the vulnerable, bare, raw person that he truly is.

Annie had abandoned him all those years ago, he doesn't feel like he can rely on her anymore. He still sees her around the house sometimes, but he no longer feels warmth towards her or cares about her, at the mere sight he's filled with rage, with disappointment. He wants to ask why, why she'd left him when he'd needed her most, just like his parents did all those years ago. Why had she turned on him too? But he can't bring himself to, he's not brave enough. Deep down, he still loves Annie. If anything, she'd been more of a mother to him than Ellie had ever been, she'd cared for him but—she'd _abandoned _him, too.

Kurt doesn't know what to think on the matter, so he just ignores it all together.

He's grown to have quite a severe superiority complex, pushing people away and making out that he's better than them, the bigger person in the whole situation, the only thing that helps him deal with things. The only thing that makes him feel okay.

He's lonely, too, but to him nobody is good enough. It's been clear for years he prefers boys to girls. Oddly enough, nobody seems to mind. Even his father, he welcomes who he is with open arms.

That doesn't stop the girls, though, no. They don't seem to take in that vital piece of information. That they're missing a certain piece of let's say _anatomy. _They through themselves at him like there's no tomorrow.

Kurt can't stand it, the constant fending off of unwanted attention. He'd thought it'd be a thing that would fade away as he grew, that all of those fawning women and little girls would get a hold of themselves and realise that Kurt, really, wasn't all that great. It had only seemed to worsen though, much to his chagrin. So he'd settled for becoming mean, using harsh words to keep them at bay. It's another part of the reason why he feels so superior. He might be mean, icy, hateful to others but still no one seems to care. They ignore it just because he's pretty, because he's attractive. They don't care that he's an awful person, that he hates them all.

There is one girl though, just one, that has never done anything of the sort. Someone outside of his family—himself and his father and maybe even Annie—that Kurt has come to trust. Someone who understands what Kurt is going through. Somebody who has grown to be just the same as him: _Maisie Anderson._

_With the soft 'tap-tap' of designer boots on the pavement, Kurt walks down the street. Nose upturned and back ramrod straight. Eyes cold, challenging, emotionless, narrowing at whoever deems to look his way. An air of narcissism circles him._

Kurt eyes all the grand houses lazily. His eyes are locked on an upcoming one, he quickens his pace. He's already late (fashionably late) and he doesn't want to keep her waiting. He's quite sure she wouldn't mind though, he's giving up precious time just to do her a favour. She owes him. Owes him big time.

**…**

_Kurt is sitting in the library. He's done his homework already and he still has a quarter of an hour left of free period. Arms crossed and leaning on the table, head perched lazily across them, he eyes the rest of the library population._

_So. Much. Blue._

_His hand fiddle with the hem of his vest. It's a dark navy blue—like everything else, apparently—and covers a white button up shirt. On the left side of his chest there's a big and swirly 'C' emblazoned, thick and fancy and attention-grabbing, it's to show that he's a Crawford Boy. The slacks are horrible, grey plaid and hideous, to match his tie._

_He sighs, why does he even _go _to this school?_ _Its idea of a nice and fashionable uniform is depressing, it makes Kurt think there's no hope left in the world. Well, in the world of _fashion, _at least._

_He twists his head with a groan, stretching his arms out across the table, forehead resting against them. He faintly takes in the noise of the library door opening and closing, then the soft patter of feet on the wood flooring. He looks up, absently, bored out of his mind._

_Hazel-green eyes are staring down at him, it startles him at first mind fuzzy and confused, but as his shoulders slouch down and his body relaxes he pushes himself up, stretching his arms out and resting on his palms. He yawns slightly._

_Maisie Anderson sits across from him, chin placed daintily in her palms and her elbows resting on the table. She flutters her eyelashes at him, offering him a coy smile. He flicks her nose and she glares at him, but then bursts out into a fit of gigles, Kurt following along._

_"Hello Kurt." She greets sweetly, her eyes wide and glistening. "How are you?"_

_He looks at her with a mock-snide expression, "Peachy." he mumbles, cocking his head to the side, "Do what do I owe the pleasure?" he drawls out._

_A pleasure indeed it is for Kurt, though he'd never admit it. This girl was one of the few people he tolerated. They were close, in a way. They were—_friends.

_"I need a tutor." She states bluntly, Kurt only stares, dumbfounded. "You…You've got one of the highest GPA's here and I just thought…Better you than some creepy guy I don't know…right?" She hastily explains. Eyes wide, pleading, a streak of hesitation that if you didn't look hard enough, you'd miss._

_Kurt and this girl were pretty much on the same boat. Both being exceedingly lucky in the looks department and also they both came from popular and wealthy families. They possessed high status and money, so they were pursued quite often and—quite strongly. Some people only shot admiring gazes their way but, others though—let's just say they didn't have the purest of intentions._

_Maisie is still talking, something about living just down the street to each other, trying to explain, trying to convince. "Yes," Kurt blurts out without thinking "I'll do it" He earns a squeal from his friend, the librarian hastily _'shushing'_ her soon after._

_He can't help but laugh when Maisie ducks her head, biting her lip to not giggle and mumbles a "Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am" while Kurt gives her a questioning look. She shrugs as he laughs, and in that moment, he knows exactly why he likes being around this girl._

_He feels normal for once in his life, as if he can act like he pleases and he won't be judged._

_He feels himself being poked in the side, a hushed comment of "You're so uptight!" hissed at him playfully. He sticks his tongue out, feeling like a child, but not caring about it in any way._

_The librarian glares at them and both their mouths clamp shut. Amused twinkles in their eyes as they lock together in a silent thank you._

_A thank you to the other for taking the time to tolerate them, and what being with them entails._

_They're friends, so they're happy._

**…**

He pauses as he reaches the gate, hand clutching at the latch in anticipation. He doesn't know why he's nervous but the feeling just won't go away. It nags at him, making him pull a nervous smile as he slowly opens the gate.

He looks up at the house, its dark majestic brown shining in the small amount of sun that's left. Its size and grandeur bring up a daunting feeling inside of Kurt, making him feel queasy and uneasy.

It's Maisie, he shouldn't be worried. He just has to tutor her, no biggie, right? They're friends, nothing bad is going to happen. He takes a deep breath, eyes closing momentarily as he pushes the gate open slowly, taking a small step towards the house.

A reassuring smile plasters across his face, trying to calm himself down. He has nothing to worry about, nothing bad is going to happen, everything is completely fine. He takes in another shaky breath.

This is what friends do, right, hang out? That's what him and Maisie did. Were going to do—because they were _friends. _And that's what friends did, no?

They only normally hung out at school. Spending the few minutes they had in between classes making hasty conversation or trying not to make too much noise talking and joking around in the library.

Kurt had known for a while that this wasn't strictly normal, for how close they were, at least. For how much they meant to each other. Normal friends hung out. Kurt and Maisie steered far away from those lines.

It wasn't because they didn't want to, that was to be sure of, it was because they were scared. Scared of being hurt, of being judged, of being tricked into something that wasn't real.

They had to move slowly in order to prove that this friendship was real, and not like other times when the others only had ulterior motives. This was normal, at least for them.

Kurt nods, feeling somewhat better, and takes another small step. It was going to work out in the end, they'd learn how to fully open up to each other. Kurt was determined to not ruin it. This was everything he'd ever wanted, a friend, he'd be damned if he was dumb enough to let that chance go.

He took another step, this one more sure, filled with more courage. He was making the right decision. Maisie needed him. He needed Maisie. He wasn't going to fuck this up, that was a definite no-no.

"You can do this, Kurt! Have, umm…courage, or whatever!" He whispers, ringing his hands together, the uneasiness taking over him again.

_He has to do this, he has to do this._

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness, _ya'know_—" Kurt's back goes stiff "—you should really work on that." And wait, no, he knows that voice.

Turning around his eyes immediately latch onto a familiar shade of hazel. Though these ones are tougher, not as sweet and innocent, you'd think they were hiding some big, bad, nasty secret if it wasn't for the tell-tale mischievous twinkle in them.

They shine with curiosity, somewhat like a cat, and a sharp grin spreads across the other boys face which, right at that moment, lays in his palm, elbow resting on the fence awkwardly, though he seems to pay it no mind. He lets out a smirkish chuckle.

_"Miss me?"_

* * *

><p><strong>[AN]**: **Okay, so what did you think? Good enough? Or just really bad? Feedback would be nice...**


	2. Chapter Two

It wasn't that Kurt's day was going _badly _per se, it just _really_ wasn't going as planned.

To start things off his car had broken down. His dad was out of town and unable to fix it; using the excuse of having to sort out some office malfunctions in one of his Lima garages, he'd _actually_gone to spend some time with his new _girlfriend._

He'd tried to keep her a secret from Kurt, tried to hide her, thinking that Kurt'd get jealous, not want to share his fathers affections or, maybe, be forced to remind himself of his mothers death.

None of it was true, his dad was silly in that sense. Kurt knew who Carole was, he'd even met her once before, though that was prior to her involvement with Burt.

It'd been on a day much like this, though that time Kurt's car had broken down at school instead of at home. He'd phoned his dad, who was on his way to pick it up, but had been busy with something else, though, so Kurt'd have to walk home—or take the bus but that really wasn't an option, of course, Kurt, never in his life would ever board a bus, it was against his religion, he was sure—.

Beginning his treck towards his house he slowly walked through the streets at a calm pace, taking in the view. He'd never been this way before, never having reason to, so it was all quite new.

He hadn't realised he'd have to walk passed the reform school in his way home—a place people from The Avenue steered clear of—he didn't pass it on his car-route to school, so he was surprised when he came across it. He'd stood there a few moments, looking through the fence at all the boys scattered around the school grounds. What seemed to be a football field held most of the students, some actually playing some form of sport and others lazily watching by the sidelines.

Kurt had made to move on, start walking again, but the moment his body turned in the slightest he was met with a large shout of _'Just go _away _mom, I don't need you here!'_. Kurt had paused, turned fully, and now faced the source of the shout.

A little more along the line of chain-link-fence was a woman, maybe in her late thirties/earlyforties, her brownish-auburn hair shone slightly in the sun and her—were they green?—eyes glinted slightly, as if with unshed tears. Her form looked taken aback, probably from the young boys outburst. Her shoulders shook slightly and her eyes were wide.

_"B-but Finn...I just, I just wanted to s_ee _you. See how you were doing...I, I worry a lot."_

The boy, Finn, didn't even look like he felt the least bit of remorse towards her. _Who on _earth _would treat their mother like that? _Was Kurt's first thought. He'd give anything to have _his _mother back, why was this boy taking his own for granted? Did he not realise how lucky he was?

_"I don't need your _pity _mom, just leave."_

Her lower lip trembled slightly as she took a step back, shoulders slumping and her forehead turned down in a sad frown. Kurt was frozen in his place, frozen in _shock, _who did that boy think he was, treating his mother like that. Did he not know there was such a thing as manners?

He scoffed, eyes tracing over the contours of the school building. _Probably not_, he scoffed again, _He _does _attend a reform school, after all._

As the woman turned to leave, another boy appeared, standing up from where he was currently lounging on some kind of sun-rotted wooden table. He stood next to _Finn, _not muchshorter than the lanky boy, but much better built, arms consisting of ripling muscles that had Kurt practically _salivating_. Before he had the time to berate his mind for such indecent thoughts, the other boy, the muscled one with a Mohawk, curled his fingers around the fence and lent forwards slightly.

_"Don't worry Carole—" _He paused, cheeky grin in place _"I mean Ms. Hudson..." _quickly verifying, he moved on, _"Finn's just being prissy because Fabray won't put out, come back later, yeah? I'll be sure to have talked some sense into him."_

Without even looking the slightest bit offended by the boys lewd words, the woman, Carole, smiled at him and, with a nod, left towards her car. The two boys remained at the fence until she'd driven away, but once seeing the car turn the corner, the silence broke with a _'Puck'' _he pauses '_Dude, why did you have to tell her that?' _from Finn.

_"She at least cares enough to come see how you are, my ma don't even care," Puck _rubbedthe back of his neck, looking slightly abashed._"You're hella lucky, dude, don't push her away."_

With a shake of the head from Finn's part, they'd both made move to walk away but before Kurt had been able to start his internal cheering—at not being seen snooping—both pairs of eyes had landed on him.

_"Whadda _you _looking at, preppy boy?"_

Finn looked towards Kurt with a haughty expression, hands stuffed deeply into his trouser pockets. Kurt looked straight back, arms crossed in what seemed to be a taunting pose. Or that's what he'd wanted it to look like, anyway. The silence was stifling and Kurt had wanted to run away and never look back. He stood his ground though, taking the fence that separated them as a valuable life-saver. At least the other boy couldn't touch him, at least he had that.

With a shove that sent Finn stumbling slightly forwards, Puck let out a laugh and a _'Dude, Finn, back off! That's that Hummel dude!'_.

Kurt had frowned slightly at 'Hummel dude' but let it go without a comment, he's too good to be conversing with such miscreants, he should _really _leave.

Puck turns towards him, wide grin in place, and bows slightly in what Kurt takes as a mocking manner. _"So what brings a lovely looking boy like yourself into these parts of town?" _He smirks.

Kurt's arms tighten where he had them folded, fists clenching slightly. He goes to hiss out a '_That's none of your business' _but promptly gets cut off by Finn.

"_Dude, weren't you straight?" _and smirking Puck looks towards him, the muscles in his arms flexing slightly and Kurt tries his hardest to not look because o_hmygodhe'ssohot—_but no, Kurt's too good for this. He looks away biting his lip.

_"Straight or not I know a good piece of ass when I see one and, that, my friend, is one _fine _piece of __ass..." _Puck trailed off, eyes locked on Kurt.

With a _'whatever'' _from Kurt and a '_Yo frankenteen, Puck! Get your asses over here!' _from some other reform student they had parted ways. The two reform boys strolling back towards the football field at a leisurely pace and Kurt stomping down the street with clenched fists and a frown.

_He'd never seen the hazel eyes that'd been locked on him since he'd arrived, but, on the other hand, he hadn't really been looking for them, either._

That had been such a long time ago, though, and Kurt didn't want to remind himself of measly delinquents that had made him spend the rest of his day feeling awful. No matter what Kurt did that he couldn't get those two boys, or Carole Hudson, out of his head. It was quite ironic that she'd end up dating his father.

So yes, Kurt Hummel had had the lovely pleasure of meeting, kind of, in a way, Carole Hudson and her son, though right now, it really wasn't the time to reminisce about stuff like that. His car had broken down, his dad _clearly _wasn't here, and the only option left—to prevent being tardy to school—was the bus.

Kurt Hummel had to take the _bleamin' _bus! Never in his life had he thought of such blasphemy. But here he was, fingers curled tightly around the rail as he hoisted himself on to the first step, a dejected look etched in his features and a permanent scowl adorning his face. Mumbling profanities and cursing whatever deity had wished such an unfortunate situation upon him.

It smelled bad, _rancid, _and practically all of the seats were dirty or broken or covered in chewing gum and _god-knows-what. _It took him forever to find a fairly untouched seat and even then it was _lumpy _and _uncomfortable _and he just hated _everything._

Crossing his arms and glaring at his surroundings, he hastily turns on his ipod and hits shuffle on his 'Wicked' soundtrack, the familiar sound of Kristin Chenoweth's voice drumming in his ears, filling his mind.

He sighs, feeling at ease. _At least I've still got this, _he thinks, _at least not the _whole _bus ride will be an absolute nightmare. _He leans back against the seat, letting out a soft sigh.

He doesn't even hear the hand that slaps against the bus door as it starts to rumble forward. Not even the bus stopping to let whoever owned that hand get on the bus managed to get him out of his newly sated state though he _did _let out a little frustrated sigh at being made even _more _late, his morning had gone badly enough.

_Kurt hated everything. _He hated his car. He hated his dad who wasn't there to fix said car. He hated Carole, who was keeping Burt from fixing his car. He hated this bus and the discomfort it was making him feel, even his ipod and Wicked couldn't take that away. He hated whoever had just arrived late and made Kurt wait even longer.

His fingers fiddle with the hem of his vest, his eyes lazily tracing the countours of the seats and whatever other things they fell upon. They fall to the floor, bored with what they'd found.

He sits up straighter in his seat, eyes locked on a scruffed up pair of converse that had justinterrupted his line of sight. They slowly trail up black jeans, scuffed at the ends and split at the knees. A dark navy blue sweater stretches across a broad chest, Kurt, too distracted, barely even notices the thick red 'D' emblazoned on the left side of the strangers chest. A strong defined jaw with a barely there hint of stubble, full round pink lips that Kurt just wants to take within his teeth and _bite, _shining hazel-green eyes that—

He sucks in a breath and looks away. He'd been caught. He'd been caught staring—_ogling _another guy and—_ohmygod _Kurt Hummel didn't _do _that sort of thing. Didn't get _caught _doing that sort of thing. He looks up again, abashed and—yes, those eyes are certainly still locked on him.

The other boy smirks, arms crossed over his chest and leaning back against one of the seat as the bus springs to life. His gaze is blazing, boring into Kurt's own but still he can't muster up the strength to look away.

_He was a Dalton Boy_

Yes, so the guy might be _to die for _but he was still a reform student, a measly delinquent, Kurt was simply too good for that.

They stay staring at each other for what seems like an eternity, just looking into each others eyes, as if nobody else existed. They boy stumbles a bit as the bus rounds a corner, their gaze breaking as he flew slightly forward, managing to prevent his fall by clutching on to one of the seats. Quickly standing up again, he looks around haughtily straightening his back and turning to look at Kurt again.

Kurt can't help but let out a little giggle, this guy was a _dork _and maybe kind of adorable but—there was still that underlying mysterious air of _something, _something Kurt can't quite pin-point. That smirk and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Also the fact that went to Dalton Academy. _He wasn't good enough for Kurt._

"Like what you see?"

"Not in the least."

And the boy lets out a laugh as Kurt grins up at him cockily. Kurt's mind is reeling, his fingers feeling tingly and the feeling of butterflies—no, screw that, _elephants _stampeding around his stomach making it hard to think, to _breath._ What on earth is he thinking? Is this what they call flirting? _Why _on earth is Kurt flirting with a _Dalton-boy_?

Well—he _does _have nice eyes.

"Feisty too, huh?" Kurt refrains from replying in any way, if there is any escape to this situation it's definitely to stop leading this guy on. He's not _good _for Kurt. Eyes growing dark, the boy manages to pull him from his inner thoughts, his voice going impossibly lower and taking on raspy tone, "I like that in a guy."

Kurt fights back a gasp and instead bites his lip, feeling the icky coppery tang of blood and wincing at the taste. He closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath and looks back up at the boy, "I'm way out of your league, okay? Just leave me alone." And god, yeah, he's certainly changed his tune but—it's for the better, no?

The boy just grins widely, shrugs, and nonchalantly slides into the seat behind Kurt. Hazel eyes burning into his neck, Kurt can feel them, they make his belly tingle. But that's what's _wrong_though, what's keeping him back, he _shouldn't_ feel like that—this boy, this boy is _not _good for him. Kurt Hummel has standards and—even if this guy is practically the embodiment of a _greek god,_he still doesn't meet the high status and well-mannered type that Kurt is looking for.

He might be _'hot as hell' _but he just isn't good enough. Kurt goes back to listening to hisipod, trying his hardest to ignore the blazing gaze being shot at him from behind.

A pleased sigh escapes his lips; for now, at least, he can escape the awful smell of the bus, the lumps and bumps of his seat, the heated stare that bores into his neck. He can escape everything, _just for now._

* * *

><p><em>It doesn't last for long. <em>Soon enough the bus reaches Kurt's stop and he's out of his seat like a bullet, he can't wait to finally get into school, where everything smells nice, where they have_comfortable _seats instead of lumpy ones and—there aren't creepy, but incredibly attractive delinquents undressing you with their eyes when they think you aren't looking.

It's sods law, though, isn't it? That with trying to be quick, he just makes the situation worse. Shooting out of his seat, he flings his satchel over his shoulder and tries to hastily shove hisipod into it without needing to stop walking to make sure it's securely inside. He thinks he has it right, with the device slightly through the zip he let's it go, thinking it'll simply fall into his bag.

It doesn't. It falls right through his grasp and onto the floor.

With a harsh exhale of breath to calm himself, he slowly crouches down to retrieve it, feeling his slacks stretch across his legs and ass—_assets, _he hopes to god that Dalton-boy still isn't looking.

A slow appreciative whistle proves to be that in fact _he is _still looking and Kurt slowly stands up again, turning with his arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised at the stranger.

"What, _may I ask, _do you want?"

The boy smirks and only now does Kurt notice the familiar raven coloured, curly hair. He shoves it to the back of his mind though, it's unimportant.

"What do you say..." He trails off, looking Kurt up and down. "_You. Me._My place. This Fridaynight?" He pauses, rolling his eyes in thought, body moving the slightest bit closer, crowding in on Kurt. "It's a given though, that you'd be wearing _much _less clothing," He tugs at the neck of Kurt's vest, "Preferably _nothing_," and he winks, the naughty glint in his eye more prominent than ever.

"I—what, just, you...w-what?" Kurt stammers, wringing his hands together. His cheeks are flaming and he feels warm all over, he distinctly remembers feeling like this as a kid. When he was shy. When he wasn't used to feeling—_flustered. _He pauses. _Flustered. Kurt Hummeldoesn't just _get _flustered, it just doesn't work that way! Even less at the words of a reform kid. _But he can't deny it, he knows it's true.

He hates it, he hates this guy, _he hates everything._

_"Cat got your tongue?"_

"You...You're insufferable!" Kurt'd like to say that he _definitely did not s_tomp his foot before he turned and tried to walk away. Because that was a childish thing to do and, if anything, Kurt Hummel was _so not _childish. _But he did. He had. _He'd stomped his foot just like the spoilt, self centered, childish _bitch—_

"Hey— no— wait up!" And the boy steps forward, grabbing Kurt's wrist. "_Cutie—_" he whines, Kurt doesn't even dare to turn and look at him. "At least give me a name? _Please?_" and the boys voice wavers slightly, Kurt says nothing. "I'm Blaine."

Kurt narrows his eyes as he looks at Blaine, "And what use is that to me?" he asks without thinking, barely seconds pass before a devilish grin forms at Blaine's mouth and Kurt instantly regrets what he'd said. He bites his lip, closes his eyes.

_"So you know what to scream out when I—"_

Huffing, Kurt snatches his wrist away from Blaine's hold and stomps down the rest of the aisle with a shouted _"Bite me, hobbit!" _and a scowl.

As he sets foot on the ground outside, he hears a faint _"Gladly!" _from inside the bus before the doors shut closed. He turns to watch it drive away, catching sight of Blaine blowing a kiss his way in a flirty and playful manner.

Giving him the finger, Kurt shakes his head with a laugh and proceeds to walk towards the school entrance. He ignores all the looks and stares as he glides past with a satisfied smile on his face.

If you'd asked him, he wouldn't have admitted it was _the Blaine Anderson _who had put it there. He wouldn't admit that it was the most fun he'd had in weeks, either. What he would admit though was that Blaine was _hot as hell _and—regrettably—the first boy Kurt had found mildly up to measure in _years_.

_There was _definitely _no denying that._

* * *

><p>The rest of his day goes by in a blur of thinking of Blaine, hating Blaine, thinking of Blaine's devilishly good looks, trying to convince himself that Blaine was not good enough for him, trying to come up with reasons why he shouldn't think of Blaine, thinking of Blaine some more and—whatever, it was just all a big blur of <em>Blaine, Blaine, Blaine.<em>

The rest of students at 'Crawford Country Day' were unsettled by Kurt's sudden change of persona. He spent most of the day with either a content grin or a satisfied smirk; he'd even said no to many confessions of undying love for him in a nicer manner, instead of an icy look and a bitchy comment.

It was weird, no one understood _why. _Even Kurt, if asked, would have given you a blank stare and a mumble of incoherent words. He'd been feeling warm and fuzzy all day, feeling the bottom of his stomach tingle simply with the thought of _Blaine _or, Blaine's _eyes, _Blaine's _lips, _Blaine's _adorable hair, _Blaine's _perfect ass—_perfect _assets. Blaine, Blaine, Blaine._

It was all that he could think of and he didn't even know why, he'd never felt remotely the same before, as if he was bursting at the seams with energy, if at any given moment he'd jump up and start doing flips and cart-wheels and—_anything. _He just felt _free._

In the back of his mind there was an still insistent nagging of _'__You're too good for him' _or _'He's just a delinquent, get over it' _and he knows that he should take notice, believe what his conscience is telling him. It's just that the overwhelming feeling of _tingly-ness _washing through him was too strong, it blocked it out. He knew he'd regret it—_sooner or later._

* * *

><p><em>Sooner <em>rather than later.

Bolting down the halls as fast as he can Kurt regrets everything. He regrets spending all day thinking about _Blaine, _a Dalton boy, a ravenous teen that Kurt knew too well only wanted one thing and _one thing only _from him, just like everyone else_. _He regrets ever catching the bus this morning, he regrets not staying at home. He regrets spending his last class so caught up in thinking about some _delinquent _that he hadn't even noticed the bell ring.

He was late, he was going to miss the bus. _It's all Blaine's fault—Kurt hates _everything.

His feet skid as he slides around a corner, a few more minutes of running and he's bursting through the door, satchel hanging loosely off his shoulder and, if not for the firm grip he had on it as he flew through the courtyard, it would've been slung off with the force and speed odhis running ages ago.

Finally seeing the school gate nearing up in his path, he manages to arrive just in time to see the bus drive away and curve around the corner. _He's going to have to walk._

_Kurt. Hates. Everything._

* * *

><p>The autumn sun glares down at him as he stands at the top stairs of the stairs of 'Dalton Academy, Reformatory Institution for Troubled Teens'. He sighs, shouldering his school bag and descending them one by one, a concentrated frown etched into his forehead. Deciding to jump off the last step, the curly-haired boy looks around lazily. What was one to do? It was on rare occasions that he was aloud out, what should he do first?<p>

It's not like he could go far, there were limits and...also, Andrew had had his permission to leave revoked until at least a weeks time due to a punch up he'd had with one of those snobby Crawford guys. The guy had been asking for it though, pushing Drew's buttons like that. It was only natural the guy flipped.

Blaine sighed, trudging along the tarmacked floor. That blonde kid had been taunting Drew for years. It was blatantly obvious they were both after the same girl and that fueled most of it, but, it's not as if there weren't other girls out there, right? Blaine assumed it was the challenge of wanting something you couldn't have, couldn't _get._

How it fills you up with electricity the moment you look at them, when the only thing you feel is the urge to _touch _and _feel _and...maybe, touch some more? He just knew it was intense, it blocked out all of your other senses. The only thing you could see was _them. _That perfect person you just _couldn't_ have. That perfect person that was _way _out of your league.

_Kurt Hummel_

If anything, when first laying eyes upon the boy, Blaine had been _flabbergasted, _the breath knocked straight out of him, the earth had stood still. The only thing he could see was glistening and soft looking brunette hair and shining blue—or where they green? or maybe grey?—eyes that had looked _oh so _innocent, and _oh so _incredibly pure. Pale skin that shone in the sunlight and just seemed to pull Blaine towards it.

He wanted to touch _so badly. _He couldn't though; taking him mere seconds to realise. Skin so pale it looks like porcelain? Eyes so blue they could compete with the sea, with the _sky? _Full, plump pink lips that drove you _wild_, wild with the thought of _kissing _them?

There was only one person known for all those aspects, and that was _the _Kurt Hummel, popular for his enchanting good looks and enough of a snarky attitude to put _anybody _in their place.

He was also known for being lonesome, for not letting anybody close. His eyes were like ice, people liked to say, ice that could freeze the pits of hell. _So nobody got close. _Kurt was known for always being on his own. Kurt was known for being _emotionless._

But with the one second their eyes had met, Blaine couldn't bring himself to comprehend that fact at all. With just one second of looking into those _too bright _yet slightly dull eyes, Blaine had seen more emotions pass through them than years he had lived. And that was a fair few so, god knows where people had gotten _that _from. If anything Kurt's eyes were the most _emotional_and expressive things the world had to offer.

It made Blaine shiver, to some extent, how raw and vulnerable they had looked, but as soon as it come it had gone, that _slightly dull_-ness hidden in Kurt's eyes overtook everything else and they were left blank. Blaine was left confused and with a weird churning in his insides, as if a hand had grabbed at his heart and was squeezing it has tight as it could.

He'd taken that as a weakness and, just like Kurt, in less than a second, all his walls were up and his usual cocky smirk was tugging at his lips. This was the only way Blaine felt comfortable now, in this prejudiced world, where all he did was get judged and scrutinized.

Walking onwards through the front gate, he stopped once his feet hit the pavement breathing in and smiling widely, it had been _so long _since he'd been let out. He was _free._

* * *

><p>As Kurt storm<em>s <em>down the street he can't help but ignore the direction that he's going. Everything is blurry and he can't distinguish a thing. Rage fills his body, adrenaline pumping through his veins due to the running, slight exertion courses through him too, but that's barely noticeable.

Kurt Hummel was _most definitely _not happy.

As he huffs and puffs in frustration he fails to notice the familiar look of the street, the big broad building that is 'Dalton Academy' up ahead, the smirking boy looking at him from a distance.

Feet stomping on the hard pavement, scowl permanently in place, Kurt can't help the long string of curses and profanities that leave his mouth. He's not in control of his mind, of his body, too focused on being angry at how bad his day had gone. _He hates everything._

He hates school, he hates his car, he hates his dad, he hates _the world, _he hates those stupid, ridiculous Crawford uniforms, he hates _Blaine—_

"Well _hello there, _sugarplum—" two firm arms wrap around his waste, fingers twining together behind his back and pulling him into a firm chest. "—just couldn't keep away, could you?" there's hot breath blowing into his ear as none other than _Blaine _himself whispers into it. Kurt can't help but shudder.

"_Ugh, _what are you doing here?" He pauses, trying to wriggle out of Blaine's grasp. It was warm and _nice _and—it was _way _too enjoyable, Kurt _had _to put a stop to it, it was the only thing he could do. "Are you _stalking _me?"

Blaine just chuckled, his eyes crinkling making Kurt's chest constrict in the most painful yet _blissful _of ways. It was wrong of him to feel that way, he knew it but he couldn't help it, could he? Though, if he tried hard enough, and all odds were in his favour, if he put up with Blaine for now then, maybe he might not ever have to see him again. He tried to ignore the sudden sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

If anything, what he felt towards Blaine was only _mild attraction. _They'd known each other for what, ten minutes? That could easily be overcome.

Kurt allowed himself a proud grin, eyes closed and thinking of the possibility that, if all went well, he'd never have to see Blaine again. He'd never have to feel vulnerable, like the way he seemed to always feel in Blaine's presence. _He could just go back to how thins use to be before. _Before as in this morning, before he boarded that stupid bus, before his damn _car _had broken down!

"What you got that silly grin for?" Blaine tugged him out of his inner thoughts, once again by blazing hazel eyes locked on his. "You really _that _happy to see me?" Blaine drawled, daringly leaning down and nuzzling his nose down the length of Kurt's pale neck. Kurt tried to hold back the shiver that immediately shot down his spine, or hide the slight blush lacing over his cheeks. He tried to hide how enjoyable he found it, how _at home _it made him feel.

"Don't flatter yourself," He scoffs, "If _anything _I just want to get rid of you and your creepy stalker ways." He tries to wriggle out of Blaine's grasp again, just to prove his point.

Chucking his head back and eyes crinkling—_again, _to Kurt's dismay—Blaine lets out a full-on, honest to god laugh. It has Kurt's chest constricting again, his breath coming in harder and making him _feel _something he doesn't think he ever has ever felt before. He shakes his head, this _shouldn't _be happening, Kurt _shouldn't _feel like this.

_"Whatever," _He mutters, finally gathering up the strength and willpower to fully pull away from Blaine's grasp, said boys arms falling uselessly to his sides as he stares up at Kurt. "I have more_important _places to be. So...if you'll excuse me," and he's turning, turning away from Blaine, turning away from all these new feelings, turning away from the blatant vulnerability that he feels in the other teens presence.

_He's turning away, he's going back to how things use to be._

He doesn't realise how far away he's managed to walk until he hears the faint _'Hey—Wait—No! Wait up!' and _grinding his teeth together, he stops and turns his head expectantly. "Well?"

Blaine stops, catching his breath, _had he had to run to catch up? _He lifts a finger as a signal for Kurt to wait.

"_Gosh, _pretty-boy, you sure do walk fast!" His eyes trail _ever so slowly _up Kurt's legs, taking their time and making Kurt feel light headed, they briefly stop at his crotch, before Blaine glances up at him with a sly grin and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes is back again. "It must be because of those _spectacular _legs you have—" he pauses, smirking "They go on for miles and miles and—what I'd give to—"

"Okay, no, shut up, I'm leaving" and Kurt turns again, with a huff. Not even a second goes by before Blaine's clutching at his wrist again, this time Kurt doesn't even humour him by turning around and just stays put, facing the opposite direction.

"Just..." He trails off, voice weary and unsure. "Give me a name, please? I'm sure you're plenty sick of _pretty-boy _and _sugarplum_..." Kurt can _feel _the smirk in his voice.

He feels like he should just walk away—Blaine would probably just follow but still—just completely ignore Blaine, at the same time though he feels this immense pull towards him, and he can't help but long for _more._

_"Kurt." _He states, turning to lock eyes with Blaine, said boys hand finally releasing his grip on Kurt's wrist. "My name's Kurt," Blaine wears a smirk and his eyes shine. "I expect you already knew that, though, yes?" He can see the tell-tale look in Blaine's eyes. "Anyway, although this chit-chat has been just _phenomenal—_" He pauses to glare at Blaine, "I _really _do have better places to be."

And with that he's gone, _really gone, _turning around the corner and not looking back. He knows Blaine isn't following. He nearly even misses the chuckle and the "_See you soon, Kurt" _that trails after him, he tries to ignore the fleeting feeling of warmth that shoots through him at hearing Blaine say his name.

_There—_he thinks—_done and dusted. _Kurt Hummel will _never _in his life have to encounter Blaine again. Ever. It's all over.

Or that's what he _hopes,_ anyway.

* * *

><p><em>"Miss me?"<em>

Kurt sighs, crossing his arms and with a stubborn turn of the head, refuses to meet Blaine's eyes. "You really _are _stalking me, aren't you?" He asks, voice full of condescension.

Blaine chooses to ignore his question, grinning happily up at him, "Long time no see, huh? It's been what...a _week?_" Just like Blaine, Kurt doesn't dignify his question with and answer, the other boy pays him no mind.

"I've been thinking about you, you know," Kurt's eyebrows raise "What do you say—_" _he trails off, smirk pulling at his lips. "_You...Me. Tonight. _My place?" Kurt tries to ignore the slightly hopeful tone Blaine has adopted, he also tries to ignore the slight sense of hopefulness that engulfs him, too.

"I told you last week and I'll tell you today too—" He pauses for dramatic effect, because if there's anything Kurt loves, it's drama. "—It's still a no. A big, fat, _resounding _no._" _He states looking over at Blaine finally, "And anyway—"

Cocking his head to the side his eyes widen slightly at noticing the other boy standing at Blaine's side, "Who—Who are you?" he asks, confused.

Standing up straight—though still much shorter than the other boy—Blaine slaps his back twice, making the boy stumble forward slightly.

"This is Andrew, he's my best-buddy!" he grins, looking up at the other boy while Kurt takes his fair time at taking him in.

He's fairly tall, maybe an inch or two on Kurt, and has very pale skin. His eyes are blue, not quite the same as Kurt's though. They're clearer, like a river. His hair is dark and thick, a jet black colour. Both him and Blaine wear the standard Dalton overalls—for when doing community service—though Andrew's look slightly less tattered and more taken care of. The very last thing Kurt notices, well _things _are the two piercings above his upper lip. One on each side. _Snakebites._

_"Pleasure," _Kurt mutters with a snide glance and a voice full of disdain. He hears Blaine chuckle, and looks towards him.

"_Now, _Kurtie. Play nice." He pauses for a moment, eyes raking up Kurt's lithe form. "Though it _is _kinda hot to see you get all jealous," he licks his lips for effect.

_"Ugh, _whatever...I'm leaving," He turns "And please, Blaine, I'd _greatly _appreciate it if you'd _stop _stalking me." And he walks up to the door of Maisie's house without uttering another word.

Just as he's about to knock he hears Blaine's dejected mumble of _'but I'm _not _stalking you' _but chooses to ignore it, he's late enough as it is.

* * *

><p>Maisie doesn't take long to come bounding up to the door, briefly reminding Kurt of a Labrador puppy, or maybe a Golden Retriever. Without even looking outside she has her fingers curled sharply around the collar of his shirt and is dragging him in. He stumbles slightly.<p>

_"Gosh," _She gasps looking up at him with wide and unsure eyes "I thought you weren't going to come." But soon enough the look is gone and she's dragging him into the living from, shoving him into a seat and rushing off to _god-knows-where._

He hears a _"Do you want anything to drink?" _from a nearby room and assumes she's in the kitchen, he can also hear the clinking of glasses on a marble counter and shuffling of feet across tiled floors. He's shouting out a _"No thanks" _when Maisie comes rushing back into the living room, her glass of water sloshing slightly as she let's it drop hastily over the coffee table.

It seems she can't stand still, like she's on edge, _nervous. _It's unsettling.

"What on _earth _has got you so jumpy?" He gasps the moment she jumps up from her current place next to Kurt on the couch, where she'd only sat down mere seconds ago, and shoots across the room to the window.

It dawns on him. "Is it those Dalton hooligans by your front lawn?" He asks, her hand pauses abruptly from where she's tightly gripping on to the curtain. "We should just settle down for tutoring and they'll be gone soon enough," He says it in hopes of sounding optimistic, _hopeful. _He just wants her to _calm down._

Her whole form goes rigid, slack, at the mention of tutoring, and Kurt's left at a loss of what to do. She turns slowly, _ever so slowly _and locks eyes with him. Her familiar _sweet _looking hazel ones a sharp contrast to Blaine's. Shaking his head he quickly berates himself on even _thinking _about him. He wasn't worth it, he should just forget.

Maisie slowly walks towards him, breathing in and out as she goes. She takes her previous seat beside Kurt, she doesn't turn to look at him though. Everything is strangely quiet. _Kurt doesn't know what to do._

"Maisie..." he starts, looking at her with pleading eyes. "What's got you so worked up?" His hand softly grips her shoulder, she looks up at him, eyes wide, from where she's sitting, shoulders hunched and gaze formerly looking down.

"I just—" Her voice falters "I didn't _w__ant _to, really, I just...I couldn't think of any other way and—I just want him to come _home, _Kurt. I miss him so much," Kurt doesn't think he's ever seen her eyes get so teary and wide, vulnerable, like she's telling Kurt all of her darkest secrets. He doesn't understand _why _though. _Why _she's looking at him like that. Like at any given moment he's going to up and leave her stranded.

Slowly, without thinking, his arm slips down to her waist, circling it and drawing her body closer to his, tucking her head under his chin. They've never really acted very affectionate towards each other, in the normal way friends do. It was taking all that Kurt had in him to just call _himself _down, now, and not think of such trivial things.

"I...I'm not quite sure what you mean," he mumbles into her hair and, before he can stop himself, his hand starts tracing comforting circles across her hip. "Just tell me what's _wrong_," he grips her hip slightly tighter.

She wavers, voice throaty "I just don't want you to _hate _me," and now Kurt is _really _confused. What on earth could tutoring do for him to hate Maisie? It was completely bizarre, a stupid idea. Maisie was all he had, he wouldn't let her go that easily.

There's a faint creak of a door opening in the hall, both teens so caught up in each other that they hardly even hear it. Neither do they hear the faint _click _of the door shutting soon after.

"How could I possibly _hate _you?" Kurt says with a chuckle shaking Maisie slightly, it's the most stupidest thing he's heard in like _forever _and—

There's a stomping of feet coming towards them and both their heads whip around, startled. They eye their newly acquired guest in shock, Kurt inadvertently grips onto Maisie tighter.

The guest eyes them, glaring at their somewhat intertwined bodies. "Well...don't you two look _cosey_?" Kurt swallows, he doesn't know what's happening, things are moving so fast he doesn't have time to comprehend.

Maisie shifts slightly beside him, body facing diagonally towards him, her knees touching his own. _"Kurt," _she states shakily, her hands twining together in a show of nervousness "I'd like you to meet my brother," she pauses, _"Blaine"_

Kurt doesn't understand a thing.

* * *

><p><strong>[AN]: So...was it okay? Feedback would be nice. :)**


	3. Chapter Three

Kurt didn't really have much time to react. One minute he was sitting dead still on the sofa with a gobsmacked face, Maisie curled up at his side and looking up at him with wide eyes, and the next she's gone and he's stuck alone in an unknown house with none other thank Blaine fucking Anderson.

He just sat there and gaped for a while, letting the idea of Maisie and Blaine being siblings sink in and finding himself at a loss of what to say. What could he say?

Blaine's presence was ever-present and _there,_ Kurt could feel it. His gaze locked on Kurt and body pressed up to Kurt's own. Their thighs felt glued together and the heat of Blaine's body was making Kurt feel drowsy and dry-mouthed.

He'd never been so close to another boy before, or at least an attractive one. He'd never wanted another boy this much before, either, and that fact kept a daunting feeling nestled in his stomach. Because no, he couldn't want Blaine. He was too good for Blaine, too good for anybody.

But he couldn't deny the shivers that went down his spine whenever Blaine moved slightly closer, or the way his fiery gaze never faltered, staying trained on Kurt the whole time.

The silence was stifling and Kurt could feel his skin growing hot. He couldn't find the strength to actually say anything, though, and it was making him feel weak and vulnerable and completely at Blaine's mercy.

He knew that if he turned his head just slightly to look at Blaine he'd be met with a full on smug look. He knew that Blaine knew the effect he had on him. But try as he might he couldn't hide it, he _wanted_ Blaine, he wanted him more than anything he'd ever wanted before.

But the fact of the matter was that, in fact, he couldn't _have _Blaine, and that made the situation a whole lot worse.

First off, Blaine was Maisie's brother and, Kurt knew quite well, you're not supposed to date your best friend's brother. It was against the rules, or something.

Secondly, Blaine attended a reform school, for reasons still unknown to Kurt, and therefore wasn't what Kurt was looking for in a guy. He needed somebody loyal and worthy of his affections. Not some delinquent that could up and leave him at any minute. Kurt needed something stable, something his heart could handle.

So no, dating Blaine, _wanting_ Blaine was out of the question. It was despicable of him to even think about it.

Then again, his curly hair _was_ rather cute. And his eyes, his eyes were the most expressive and beautiful pair of eyes Kurt had ever come across. And what about his body? He was the hottest, most attractive, _sexiest_—With a raised arm and a faked yawn, Blaine's left arm settled itself snug around Kurt's shoulders.

"So Kurt, when do we start my…_tutoring_?" He finished that with devilish smirk and a wink.

Thank god though, if Kurt had been left to his thoughts but a moment longer—he guessed it was better not think about the consequences. He might have even talked into himself that wanting Blaine was a _good idea_. He may have even encouraged himself to go for it and—

Apparently oblivious to personal boundaries, with the arm he had hooked around Kurt's shoulder, Blaine began to lazily trace patterns with his index finger across Kurt's shoulder and the exposed parts of his neck.

Kurt opted to just cough loudly, moving forwards to sort out the papers he'd prepared for tutoring. Doing so had made Blaine's arm fall from it's current place but, paying it no mind, Blaine just proceeded to wrap it around Kurt's waist and began tracing patterns with his fingers there, instead.

Goosebumps made their way across Kurt's torso as he felt Blaine's cold fingers slip underneath his shirt, gripping his hip lightly. Try as he might he couldn't find the courage to tell him to stop, that he didn't want Blaine touching him because _he did_, he wanted Blaine to touch him so _darn _much that—

Kurt looked away, biting his lower lip as Blaine shuffled closer and pressed his face into his neck, breathing in. He'd never done this before, it all felt so new that he couldn't muster up the strength to push Blaine away. _It felt so good._

"You smell nice, sugarplum" Blaine mumbled lazily nuzzling into Kurt's neck, his grip on the other boys hip tightening slightly.

"Well you smell icky," Kurt counters, smirk in place.

Blaine ignores the childish use of icky that he's as sure as anything was just Maisie rubbing off on Kurt. Instead he just grins, winking at Kurt. "I've been picking up garbage at the highway all morning, give me some credit."

Kurt just glares at Blaine, "You still smell," and with a huff he's grabbing Blaine's hand within his own, and makes as if to pull it away.

In less than a few seconds Kurt finds himself disoriented and looking up into a pair of bright hazel eyes, his body trapped within the confines of Blaine's warm body and the sofa. His breath hitched as Blaine's thighs tightened around his hips and his hands came to rest at each side of Kurt's head, tugging at the fabric of the sofa, trapping him.

Biting his lip and blushing madly Kurt looked away, his eyes darting in every direction. The close proximity of Blaine had him puffing out quick, broken breaths and his heart accelerating to a million miles per hour.

They hadn't even done anything yet and already Kurt was getting all hot and bothered. He hated himself for it, he _shouldn't_ feel this way. It was _wrong._ He was _too good._ But he couldn't deny the queasy feeling he got at having Blaine so close to him, warm and _there._

Kurt nervously takes a deep breath and locks eyes, once again, with Blaine. The other boy just lets out a chuckle and leans down to quickly peck Kurt on the lips. "You're so cute when you're all flustered," he states, pecking Kurt on the lips once more for good measure.

It catches Kurt completely off guard. Even in the compromising position he had been put in he was still unsuspecting of anything like that to happen. He curses himself for being so naïve and tries to wriggle out from underneath Blaine's body.

Looking up into hazel eyes and making out as if it hadn't meant a thing to him he says, "We should really be doing french." Blaine just looks back at him with a smirk, that stupid glint in his eyes as prominent as ever.

"Yeah, I'm down with that." And with no warning whatsoever, once again Kurt is completely thrown off balance. Mind blurry and cheeks red.

Blaine is kissing him. Full on _kissing _him. Kissing him with _tongue. _One hand sliding down to rest at Kurt's hip while the other threads it's fingers through the hair at the nape of Kurt's neck, tugging lightly. Kurt can't help the soft moan he lets out, muffled by Blaine's tongue. Which is in his _mouth,_ god damnit.

Kurt finds himself torn between attempting to push Blaine away or, in fact, just giving in. He can't deny that he's enjoying it. He's enjoying it_ a lot_. So with a _'Ugh, to hell with it!' _passing through his mind he kisses Blaine back. One hand threading through Blaine's soft curls and the other grappling at the small of Blaine's back, fisting his fingers in his shirt.

Kurt doesn't know if it's only mere minutes that have passed or full on hours, on the other hand though, he doesn't really care. Eyes closed kissing Blaine and, in turn, letting himself be kissed, Kurt has never felt more at bliss. Not in the company of Maisie, talking about silly, childish things while she takes uncountable amounts of pictures of him. Not even just sitting in his room, listening to his favourite Broadway musical soundtrack and feeling completely at ease. He's never felt so alive before, it kills him to think it's because of Blaine that he feels this way, it has him wanting to pull away and never look back. But for now, he thinks, it's okay to just indulge. He can just make sure to never let it happen again. It should be easy enough.

* * *

><p>Blaine pulls away a little while later, tugging Kurt's bottom lip into his mouth and sucking lightly. His insides buzzing with some sort of unknown feeling that has him feeling queasy and vulnerable. He knows it's his own fault, that this wouldn't have happened if he'd just put the undeniably strong pull he had towards the other boy behind him and ignored it. But he can't help it. With his tall, lithe body. His shining blue eyes—or were they green? Maybe grey?— and pale complexion. With his snarky attitude and sassy wit. Kurt was, <em>is <em>everything Blaine has ever wanted but, at the same time, everything Blaine can never get. Was it so bad to dream, though? To hope? Blaine tries not to encourage the strange—he'd also like to call them unwanted, but deep down he knows they're not—feelings, but at the same time all he wants is to go for it.

Kurt opens his eyes, his vision bleary as if he'd been in some kind of sedated state. Blinking a few times he locks his gaze with Blaine, confused. Blaine just tries his hardest not to think of how adorable he looks. It only takes a few seconds until alarm crosses Kurt's features and his body scoots back, trying to get away. Blaine tries to ignore the pang of hurt that shoots through him. He ignores it and, instead, puts back on his bad boy mask, because that's how he fixes all of his problems. Pretending he's someone else. Someone with more confidence. Someone that is undeniably _not him._

"We shouldn't be doing this," Kurt states.

Blaine just smirks, moving down to nip and bite at Kurt's neck, sure to leave a mark. "Come on babe, you know you were enjoying it." And it's not even a suggestion, it's a fact. He moves back down to nip at Kurt's neck again, eliciting a gasp from said boy. Kurt's fingers curl gracefully around Blaine's shoulders and, for one second, Blaine really thinks he's going to push him away. But he doesn't. He just keeps him there, so, with a satisfied smile Blaine just keeps on at Kurt's neck.

He hates himself for this, for acting so lewd and obnoxious and so clearly not him. But it's all he knows, now. The old Blaine is long gone.

Breathing in, Kurt lets out a shaky "D-don't _call_ me that," as if in an after-thought, but still makes no move to tug Blaine away.

"Call you what?" He pauses "babe?" and Kurt just frowns at him, clearly answering Blaine's question.

"I don't know about you, Anderson—" Blaine winces at the use of his surname, the small shred of hope that maybe, just maybe Kurt felt the same way towards him flying out the window with no preamble. "—but I don't like being compared to that of a _pig_." And he turns his nose up, head held high.

Blaine can't hold back a snort, "God—_sorry_!" he says sarcastically and lets out another laugh. He grins up at Kurt, eyes crinkling, "I hadn't even noticed,"

"I wouldn't have expected you to," is what Kurt replies, face still turned up as if he was superior, above Blaine. There's a sharp tug at Blaine's heart as he reminds himself that even though Kurt is so close now, he's still so far away. Out of Blaine's grasp.

Blaine might _want_ Kurt but he certainly can't _have_ him. He lets out a dejected sigh, the remains of his laugh fading away as if never even being there, he moves off of Kurt and sits at least a foot away from him on the sofa.

Kurt frowns at the loss of contact, feeling suddenly bare and uncomfortable, nonetheless he still gets up and smooths out his closes, brushing a hand through his hair to make sure it's still in place.

How was it that Blaine could coax such a reaction from him? It had never happened before. Normally, as soon as he'd lay eyes on someone he was already picking out all their faults. All the things that he had that they did not. All the ways in which he was better. Normally he'd never see them again, though, and this time, it wasn't quite the case. He'd found Blaine attractive from the start, even though he'd never admit it, and that made everything much more harder. He didn't want to feel this way towards Blaine. It was confusing and made him feel weak. Kurt was better than that. Better than Blaine. _Too good_ for Blaine.

Kurt was perfect. Blaine clearly was not.

There were so many things Kurt could pick out about Blaine, so many things he could prod and scrutinize. He didn't want to, though, because thinking badly of Blaine made his stomach churn in weird ways and it'd always result in him feeling guilty. Blaine _was_ a bad person though, right? Why else would he have been sent to a reform school? He obviously must have done something big, something dangerous. So why did Kurt find it so hard to think ill of him? He clearly deserved it.

These reactions, _these feelings_ he had towards Blaine weren't good. He should push them away, deny them. _He will._

With a shake of his head, ridding himself of such silly thoughts, Kurt shoots a sarcastic and snide smile Blaine's way and starts in the sweetest voice he can muster.

"Now, I was thinking we could start off with—"

* * *

><p>"<em>No<em>, Mercedes. You don't _understand_—" he pauses, sitting down opposite his vanity. "The guy is lewd and obnoxious and—"

**"Whatever you say, Kurt."** Drones out her voice through the phone, sounding bored. **"But he's hot, you said so yourself."**

"That has nothing to do with the matter. He kissed me, Mercedes, he had no right!" And he's starting to get flustered, recounting the events of last week. His hand inadvertently rushes up to his neck, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the spot where Blaine had left a hickey, the thought of it sending shivers down his spine and rising a scatter of goosebumps all over his body.

**"But you **_**enjoyed**_** it, white boy, isn't that what counts?" **Kurt wavers slightly, not really knowing what to say. Mercedes just sighs, sounding beat and at a loss. **"Just because he's your best friends older brother doesn't mean you should hold back. If you like him, go for it."**

He groans, chucking his head back in frustration. "I wish it was that easy, Merc." He mumbles, thumb tracing the contours of his hickey. "He—He goes to a reform school. My dad will hate him,"

**"Wait—No—Hold up. **_**What?**_** And you didn't think to tell me this, **_**why?**_**"** Kurt bites his tongue, wishing he'd never said anything. The last thing he needs now is a rant from Mercedes.

"It just didn't come up…I guess." He shrugs although she can't see him.

**"_You guess?_ Kurt, this is serious…the guy's a criminal!"**

"You think I don't know that?" He snaps, "It's just this big fact there _all_ the time. I can't get rid of it," He pauses "I can't get rid of my feelings though, either," he nibbles on his bottom lip, unsure.

**"I—"** and that's bad, if Mercedes doesn't know what to say. She always has something to say. It makes Kurt's stomach churn and twist all the more, just waiting anxiously for an answer. **"I'm not going to get in the way, Kurt. I know first hand that you don't choose who you're attracted to so, I won't judge you."** she breathes in and Kurt can't help but hold his breath. **"What I **_**will**_** say though, is make sure you're careful. Don't let your feelings get carried away, okay?"**

And Kurt sighs, relieved that Mercedes partly understands what he's going trough. "How are…How are things with Sam?"

Mercedes lets out a chuckle, muffled slightly by the phone. **"What do you expect? He's in love with Quinn…Like he always has been. Nothing has changed, I don't know why I expect it to," **And Kurt can feel the hurt in her voice, at wanting something she can't have.

"Don't worry, Merc, he's clearly not good enough for you if he can't see how you're much better for him than Quinn Fabray. Wasn't she having an affair with Puckerman, though?"

**"Yes, she definitely is. I saw them acting all cosey together at the mall last week. I don't want to tell Sam though, he'll be heartbroken."**

And this is why Kurt admires Mercedes so much. There's never been a moment, in all the time Kurt has known her that she has acted selfishly or not considered other peoples feelings. Kurt respects her for that, respects her for something he'd never be able to do, even if he wanted to. His first priority is himself and maybe his dad. That's all. He doesn't care about much else.

**"Anyways, some guy asked me out on a date the other day. His name is Shane, he's kind of cute. I like him,"**

"Well, good luck then. I'm sure it'll all go great." And he smiles.

They talk about a few other things, the conversation finally leading to gossiping about Rachel Berry. Kurt only knows her because she goes to school with Mercedes, if not, she'd just be that jealous little girl he met in the park one day.

They hang up after that, both having things to do. Kurt, namely, has to get ready to head over to Maisie's house. She'd planned for them to watch a Disney marathon and Kurt really couldn't say no. They've hardly spent any time together lately, after that whole debacle with Blaine, Kurt feels guilty about what happened, about going around behind her back and making out with her brother, of all people. And it's not like Blaine has made it any easier.

It was only their first class that Maisie had been absent, she'd spent every other in their company. Or at least in the same house, whether it be in the next room over or watching TV in the living room with them. She was always there. Kurt had thought of it as some sort of saviour at first, how wrong he'd been though. Blaine had taken it as incentive to be more scandalous.

Quick fleeting touches when Maisie wasn't in the room. A hand running teasingly up his thigh, up his arm. Smoldering looks at seeing the effect he had on Kurt. It drove him _mad,_ he just wanted to strangle Blaine or—or _something_.

So no, he hadn't quite managed to pull up the courage to spend time with Maisie, and he felt so guilty it was killing him. Her not knowing about things, he told Maisie everything.

"Stupid Blaine! Just has to stupidly come in and mess everything up because he's so stupid!" Kurt mutters, only just then noticing that his thumb is still tracing over the hickey soothingly. His hand flies away, as if burned. "Stupid Blaine!" He mutters again, wrapping a scarf around his neck to hide the offensive mark.

He _shouldn't_ feel this way. It was just a stupid hickey, anyway, he shouldn't get so worked up. He guesses it's because it was Blaine who put it there. Just like he guesses it's because his thoughts are so plagued with Blaine lately that's why he hates the boy so much.

Looking himself over once more in the mirror, he makes sure his hair is all in place and his clothes aren't rumpled. Feeling satisfied he nods towards his reflection before getting up, pocketing his phone, and making his way downstairs.

* * *

><p>Trudging his way up to Maisie's house, Kurt can't help but let the insistant guilt nagging at the back of his mind wash over him. His fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, nervous.<p>

What if she finds out about him and Blaine and grows to hate Kurt? What will he do then, if Maisie hates him? She's all he has, the only person who truly understands him.

Shaking his head he tries to rid his mind of such thoughts. He'll just have to make sure to ignore Blaine's advances. Act as if they don't mean a thing. _They shouldn't_. They won't.

It wasn't like they hadn't seen each other _at all_ though, him and Maisie. It's just that, other than at school and the small glimpses of conversation they had within Blaine's tutoring classes, Kurt had kept their contact to a minimum. Just phone calls and Skype. He still hadn't worked up the courage to see her in the flesh, knowing he'd get too overwhelmed and end up spilling everything. Then she'd hate him for sure._ He's so scared, Maisie's all he has._

In less than nothing he finds himself knocking at Maisie's door, biting his lower lip and breathing quickly. _This is it_, he thinks, _the moment when I either tell her the truth or remain a coward for the rest of my life. _And he sighs, he knows it'll be the latter.

There's no answer. He knocks again—and _still_, no answer. He leans back a bit, looks towards the driveway and no, there's no cars. But that's normal. Their parents are away on business a lot, Maisie hasn't got a license and, well, Blaine goes to a _reform school._

He gives an experimental push at the door and, surely enough, it opens. It's unlocked. Someone_ must_ be in. Maybe Maisie is listening to music in her bedroom? Maybe she can't hear him, that's why she hasn't come to the door.

So he makes his way nervously inside, shouting out a skittish _'H-Hello? Anyone home?' _but there's still no answer. He makes his way upstairs, all the way chanting to himself _'you shouldn't be doing this, you shouldn't be doing this, you're like…trespassing or something' _but even so he goes on, hand clasped tightly to the banister.

_He shouldn't be doing this._

Setting foot on the last step, Kurt is sure he's right. Maisie is listening to music too loudly in her bedroom. He can hear the faint _'thump-thump-thump'_ of the beat from down the hall. It's just that, _no,_ it can't be Maisie. The noise is very obviously coming from a room at the opposite end of the hall.

And without even thinking, Kurt is already there, pushing the door open.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know really know why he's surprised, Blaine was the only option left, really. Although Maisie had assured him that no, her brother wouldn't be home tonight, he didn't get out of reform until Friday, here he was, in the flesh. Kurt can feel his cheeks growing hot.<p>

Kurt slides in, the door clicking shut loudly behind him. He bites the inside of his lip nervously, hand behind his back never leaving the door handle.

"Blaine?"

He's at his mirror, skin glistening with little droplets of water that run down his exposed back. Kurt's eyes can't help but follow, he's almost certain his cheeks are a full-blown tomato red, now. Blaine pauses, hand halting from where he was running it through his hair, trying to tame his disarray of curls, and turns to look at Kurt.

_"Kurt?"_

"I'm…supposed to meet Maisie. But she's not…she's not—" he curses at himself for acting like such a bumbling idiot, tripping over his words. To make his point he waves his hands around, gesturing around Blaine's room _"—here."_

Blaine chuckles at Kurt's antics. But not one of the sultry, seducing little laughs Kurt is used to, this is more as if Blaine can't help himself. There's also this silly twinkle in his eye that is completely new to Kurt, too, instead of the mischievous glint. He can't help but sigh at how adorable he looks, bad boy act thrown out the window completely Blaine actually looks somewhat intriguing. Kurt feels the need to get to know him, to forget about all their past rendezvous and completely start a new. With a shake of the head though, he rids himself of such thoughts.

That's _never _gonna happen.

All too soon the Blaine he knows is back, as if he's finally caught up with himself. He smirks, laughs that little sultry laugh, and makes his way slowly towards Kurt.

"I'm _afraid _she won't be back for a while, Kurt." And Kurt hates the way he shudders at the sound of Blaine saying his name, how it rolls so easily off his lips. _Kurt wants to kiss those lips._"She's somewhat engaged with…_other _things, right now…" and his index finger trails the edge of his desk, every step he takes he's nearer to Kurt. The room feels stifling all of a sudden, Kurt needs to get out. "Guess you're stuck with me for a while, hmm?" And he smirks, that stupid glint in his eyes finally making its way back.

And whatever happens next is all a big blur. Kurt's resolve crumbles and as soon as his eyes lock with Blaine's their crashing into each other, strong arms circling Kurt's waist so they don't both topple over, Kurt's lithe fingers threading themselves trough Blaine's still wet curls. There's too much teeth and too much tongue but none of them seem to care, all they can think of is how good it feels to finally be kissing the other again.

Kurt hadn't even realised how much he wanted this. To be in Blaine's arms. Everything feels right, for once, even if Blaine is some reform delinquent. Even if he's Maisie's older brother. Nothing else matters. It's just Kurt and Blaine. _Nothing else matters._

In a matter of minutes their falling back onto Blaine's bed. Taking charge, Kurt pins Blaine to the mattress, knees digging into his waist, and proceeds to nip and suck at Blaine's neck. It's all he can do not to think. No matter how hard he tries he can't rid his mind of that little glimpse of Blaine he'd seen today, that little glimpse that seemed like an entire different person. So he pushes everything away, ignores it, lets himself get caught up in the feeling of Blaine pressed up against him, _underneath him._

"Well _somebody _definitely seems _eager _today," Blaine breathes out in between groans, hands clutching tightly at Kurt's shoulders and biting his lower lip roughly to not let out a moan. The only thing he gets in a reply is a muffled sort of growl of _'shut up' _from Kurt.

He lets himself indulge for a while, liking the feel of Kurt's body pressed up warm and prominent against his own. His tongue working wonders at _that __spot _right behind Blaine's ear, nipping and licking and sending shivers down Blaine's spine.

Blaine's hands trail down Kurt's back absently, too caught up in the feeling of _Kurt _and solely _Kurt, _slipping into said boys back trouser pockets and squeezing his ass gently.

Kurt lets out a yelp that goes straight to Blaine's crotch, his hips bucking up almost instantaneously. But he still can't shake the nagging feeling that settles in the pit of his stomach, as if he's doing the wrong thing, no matter how good it feels. As if he should warn Kurt, not let him get too caught up and make sure this is actually what he wants.

"Not that I'm c-complaining—" He finally lets out that moan he's been keeping in when Kurt's hand wonders south. "—or that I'm trying to make this hasty but—" Kurt gives an experimental squeeze at the bulge in Blaine's pants.

He troughs his head back, letting out a gasp as Kurt gets more confident and squeezes again, rubbing his palm gently across it. _"Jesus, _Kurt," And Blaine's tugging him up and pressing their lips together again, his own hands kneading at Kurt's ass slowly. "Maisie could come back _any _minute and—"

Kurt stops abruptly, his eyes wide and as guilt takes over them. His face visibly crumples and he turns away in a flash, breathing coming out in short, ragged breaths and fear clear in his eyes. His feet hit the floor and his arms circle around himself. He bites his lip, "What the hell am I _doing_?" and he lets out a harsh breath, frustrated.

"Aw, no, come on," Blaine tugs on Kurt's arm, scooting towards him and laying his head on Kurt's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck slightly. "I was just reminding you—" placing his hands on Kurt's hips and clenching slightly, "—It doesn't mean we have to s_top_," and he kisses at the skin at the nape of Kurt's neck

Kurt's head turns just a fraction and already they're kissing again, only quick pecks, Blaine's hands kneading comfortingly at Kurt's hips. They nearly miss the door banging closed downstairs, footsteps echoing up the hall. _Nearly._

Kurt is out of Blaine's grasp like a bullet, out of the door and it's as if he'd never even been there _at all_. Door closing with a rattle, Blaine tries not to let the clenching at his heart get the better of him.

He falls back onto his bed with a thump, arms and legs spread wide and a frown etched into his forehead.

There's an insistent feeling in the pit of his stomach, like butterflies and tingly-ness all mixed up in one. His arms wrap around his torso tightly as he rolls into a fetal position, never having felt so unwanted in his life. He shuts his eyes, a sudden bout of drowsyness overtaking his whole being.

_All he wants is Kurt, why can't Kurt want him back?_

* * *

><p><strong>[AN]: So…hello! Feedback is welcome, so if you're willing to give it, I'd be eternally grateful! :D**


	4. Chapter Four

Strong arms wrap around his waist bringing him flush against another body. Kurt gasps, his glass of water sloshing slightly. Hot breath ghosts down his neck as he tries to pull away. He huffs, closing his hands around the ones gripping onto his stomach.

"_Blaine. _Your sister is here, _upstairs, _she could come in at any minute,"

And Blaine chuckles, tightening his grip and holding Kurt even closer. _"And?" _The pads of Blaine's fingers begin to trace up slowly under Kurt's shirt, his touch blazing but sending shivers down his spine.

"No. _No _Blaine" he lets out weakly, trying to disentangle himself from said boy. "This...isn't good. I shouldn't be doing this." He smirks somewhat at the whine he receives.

"But _why?_ You're clearly enjoying—" He bites down on the exposed skin where Kurt's neck meets his shoulder, eliciting a gasp from said boy, to make his point. "—it, why _stop_?"

Kurt sighs, finally managing to summon up the strength to pull Blaine's hands away. He turns, facing him with a glare. Blaine just smirks and wraps his arms around Kurt's waist again, bringing him flush against him. Chest on chest, the thin shirt Kurt is wearing seems like practically nothing in between them.

"It's wrong." He bluntly states, looking at Blaine straight in the eyes.

"Not if you're _enjoying_ it."

"I—It's not _right_, then."

And Blaine's eyes seem to be set ablaze, the soft glowing hazel growing dark and dangerous. His stance stiffens, his arms tighten. "the _hell, _Hummel?"

"This isn't supposed to happen. You're Maisie's _brother, _what would she think?"

"Who cares what she thinks?" And he sighs, shoulders slumping and his fiery gaze loosing it's shine. He looks tired, defeated. "It's _our _feelings, Kurt, she _shouldn't _get a say." And they lock eyes, Kurt's blank glasz challenging Blaine's fervent hazel.

And Kurt looks away, distraught. "It was a one-off, don't expect it to be happening again." And he pushes Blaine away, grabbing the glass of water he'd been busy pouring before being interrupted, and makes to leave the kitchen. "I'll see you later, for tutoring." And he turns, head held high.

Just as he's going through the archway to the hall, a strong hand clasps onto his, halting him. He doesn't turn though, too afraid to meet Blaine's gaze.

"It's obvious you _want_ me...Kurt. It's obvious we want e_ach other_." And he breathes out, frustrated "Why do you have to make things so _god damn _complicated?"

"That's just it—I _don't _want you." And he yanks his hand away from Blaine, scurrying back upstairs before the other boy has a chance to reply.

He trudges down the hall to Maisie's room, his black Doc Martens making a loud _'plonk-plonk'_ noise as he does. His shoulders are slumped forward. He sighs, pushing the bedroom door open, not quite managing to comprehend the racing of his heart and the goosebumps he'd gotten all over his skin.

He's met with Maisie, twirling absently on her desk chair. One knee bent and the other barely touching the floor as she spins. Her shoulders are hunched and she's gripping tightly onto a digital camera, clicking through all the photos. She stops abruptly, sending a big smile towards Kurt, her hazel eyes shining. Kurt can't bear to hold her gaze for long, it reminding him of her brother's.

"Does it really take _that _long to get a glass of water—" And she pauses, chuckling. "—or did you get _lost _or something on the way?" But she doesn't wait for a reply, gaze falling back to her digital camera.

_Yeah, _Kurt thinks, _lost__ or something_.

He pushes at the door, it promptly clicks shut.

* * *

><p>"Where were you?" Kurt asks suddenly, out of the blue, from where he's sprawled out across Maisie's bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Earlier, I mean."<p>

Maisie is just a flurry of mess around him. Her figure a blur as she traipses around the room, emptying out every cupboard and draw, looking all around the shelves, her desk. Her eyes are wide, searching.

_"Andrew." _She mumbles faintly.

"Again?"

And she actually stops and turns to look at him, this topic of conversation being the only one she's managed to reply to after Kurt's many attempts, too distracted looking for whatever she'd lost.

She clenches and unclenches her fingers, sighing as she turns and gets back to work. "He's really sweet." She states. "You know, put aside that he's a reform student that got put away for theft and attempted arson..."

"He's no good." Kurt says airily, he waves his hand about as if to prove a point. _But then so is Blaine, really. _He adds to himself.

"I know."

"What about that blonde guy, weren't you seeing him?"

"Chance? No. Kind of," And she stops, breathing in. "We went on like one date. He didn't even kiss me after..."

"He's very..." And he frowns, trying to find a suitable word.

"Blaine doesn't like him either, says he's an arrogant prick—"

"—that's 'cause he _is,_" Comes an all too familiar voice from the doorway. Kurt goes tense, not even daring to look up.

"_Whatever,_ you don't even know him." and Maisie glares at Blaine playfully, crossing her arms over her chest and jutting her hip to the side. "What are you doing home, anyway?"

Her gaze follows him as he walks passed them both, crawling onto the bed and sitting down cross-legged. Kurt tries to surreptitiously move away.

"Got let out a day early...they confiscated my phone, though. 'Couldn't tell you. Got in a fight with some meat-head that thought he could get the better of me."

_"Blaine!"_

"He was a dick, so I broke his nose."

"That doesn't matter. You're just signing yourself on for _more_ time at reform. I thought we agreed you'd just lay low?"

He huffs, looking away. "I found _this_ downstairs, thought you might be looking for it? I don't know," And he waves a thick white envelope around in the air. Maisie's eyes go wide, the earlier discussed subject forgotten completely.

"You found it!" And she leaps onto the bed toward Blaine, him landing on top of Kurt's spread out legs, on his thighs, while Maisie clings to him tightly. All three are left in some sort of strange body sandwich. "Ohmygod—_I love you!" _And she sits up, snatching the envelope and turning around, pulling her legs up underneath her and pulling out the contents of the envelope.

They're photos Kurt notices as he gets up to lean over her shoulder. With that, Blaine does the same, sitting up to lean over her other shoulder, his own pressing into Kurt's and sending warmth spiralling down his arm.

"They're good, sis—" he says, twirling one of her curls around his finger. " 'took the liberty of looking through them. Pretty talented, you." And Maisie all but _beams _at him, letting out a squeak.

"You really think?" she asks eagerly, eyes shining as if craving his praise. Blaine chuckles, his eyes taking on a faraway and forlorn look, his body going stiff as if he felt somewhat guilty.

Kurt takes his distraction to move away, sitting next to Maisie instead of behind her and as far away from Blaine's warmth and presence as possible. He daintily plucks the wad of photos from her hands and begins to flick through them. They're of a few weeks ago, when they'd both had a free period and gone out to sit together on the vast expanse of green lawn that Crawford Country Day's campus had to offer.

It had been one of the first few days of spring, of good weather, and unlike most of the Crawford students, Kurt and Maisie had opted to spend it out in the sun. She hadn't waisted any time to pull out her camera, taking photos of anything that piqued her fancy.

How the sun shone through the leaves of the small oak they were sitting under; of a lone ladybird that had landed on her leg; of Kurt himself, too, she'd taking various photos of, even if he'd pleaded her not to.

He pauses at the last photo, then flicks through the first few again hastily. "There's some missing." he states, handing her back the stack.

"Yeah?" she mumbles confused, looking through them again. Blaine leans over her shoulder, dropping his hand from where it was resting at the small of her back to partly covers Kurt's outstretched fingers. Kurt would _like _to think it was merely coincidental, but the smirk that adorns Blaine's face tells him otherwise.

Their fingers twine slightly and Kurt feels a blush creeping onto his cheeks, he yanks his hand away, pointing at one of the photos and pointedly not looking at Blaine.

"Just before or after that one, when I was laughing, you know?" and he tangles his fingers together in his lap. "You were boasting about how great the angle was—because the sun hit me _just _right, or whatever." and he pokes her in the stomach. "I looked positively _horrible, _but you insisted you had to keep it because I don't laugh nearly enough and it was a miracle to get it on camera."

And she frowns, looking confused. "Yep, yeah, I remember that...maybe I didn't save it?" and she sighs, looking defeated. "That was a _really _good photo,"

And Kurt would have forgotten he was even there if Blaine hadn't spoken up in that moment, lifting himself off of the bed and not making eye contact with either one of them. His shoulders are still stiff and he has his back to them.

"No use crying over spilt milk," he mumbles, and then scurries out of the door, down the hall and into his room.

Kurt's eyes trail after him, the incessant urge of wanting to go after him and ask him what was wrong tugging persistently at his mind. Maisie just shrugs, plopping down on the floor and pulling a photo album out from under her bed. She sighs, opening it up and absently sliding her newly acquired photos into the slots.

"My brother is so _weird_..."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, a door slams down the hall. Blaine slides down, head thrown back and letting out a long breath. He brings his legs up and rests his chin on his knees, wrapping his arms around his ankles.<p>

Back pressed against the door he looks up at the ceiling, asking whatever holy deity that decides his fate why he is forced to act this way. Why he feels the _need _to act this way. Kurt is just some guy, some guy who is _clearly _not interested in him so—so why does he find it so hard to let go? To stop pursuing?

He feels _it _boring a hole into the back pocket of his jeans, an ever present reminder that he is clearly smitten with a boy he hardly knows and his feelings are wholeheartedly unrequited. He bites his lip, clenching his fists, angry.

He doesn't understand _why _he feels this way about Kurt, neither does he know exactly what it is that allows Kurt to have such a pull over him. But it's there, it's true, and Blaine can't stop it.

His hand wanders down to his pocket, slowly pulling out the slip of paper and holding it up above his head, cutting off the glare he was currently sending at the wall. It's _the_ photo, the photo Kurt and Maisie had deemed missing. The photo Blaine had so _stupidly _took, a sheer moment of _idiocy _on his part.

The pad of his thumb trails over Kurt's cheek and rests there. He sighs.

He doesn't understand _anything_. How easily he's let himself be pulled into this whole mess of _feelings _and so on, how easily he's let his armour slip away and bared himself completely to another person. He cares for Kurt, unknowingly why but he _does, _greatly so and—and all he wishes is that Kurt cared for him back, that he'd get off that high horse and at least give Blaine a _chance _but—but what does he expect? Kurt is _Kurt. _Kurt Hummel. And Blaine is...he's just a miscreant, a good for nothing screw-up that nobody thinks is worth their time anymore.

Kurt's head is tipped back, his mouth open and his eyes crinkled shut adorably. The sun catches his hair just right, various strands taking on tones of copper and gold. His school sweater is spread tight across his chest, showing off how broad and defined it is. He's leaning back on his palms, legs stretched out and seemingly going on for miles.

Blaine smiles absently, tracing his thumb down one of Kurt's arms in the photo. His heart flutters frantically, beating at an uneven rhythm and Blaine doesn't even know _why._

Just the mere _thought _of Kurt gets him like this, now that he really has come to terms with what his head is telling him, that Kurt, even though he dreads it, is much more important than any of his other conquests.

That he's not just a toy Blaine can play around with until he gets bored. Kurt is _real _and Kurt has _feelings, _and he's vulnerable. That's clear. Even though he tries to hide it, even though he hides it so _well _that most people don't even _realise—_Blaine does. Blaine knows that Kurt feels alone. _Hell, _Blaine knows how it feels, he's been there, he's done that.

He lets out a laugh full of malice and rejection. It doesn't matter that somewhat, he understands Kurt. Kurt still won't _want _him, Blaine isn't _good _enough. Blaine will _never _be good enough.

Angry, he chucks the photo across the room and stands up, walking over to his bed and flopping down, curling around the covers where once, only a few hours ago, Kurt had _kissed _him and Blaine had felt so _alive. _So wanted.

For the first time in his life he felt like he was on _fire_, blazing and burning just at the touch of Kurt. It all felt so intense and _new, _as if nothing else mattered in the world. As if it was only _Kurt and Blaine—Blaine and Kurt._

But then real life had come and knocked at the door, had torn Kurt away and now Blaine feels alone again. Like the total screw-up he is, he can't even manage to completely admit how, in just a few weeks, Kurt has taken up such a prominent part in his life, in his _heart _and—it sounds sappy, but Blaine really doesn't know what he'd do if Kurt were to leave, to forget about him.

He gets up, gently padding across the room and picks up the photo, smoothing it out as he walks back towards the bed. He curls in on himself again still feeling awful and unwanted, but he clutches the photo tight to his chest, and at least then, he feels somewhat _okay._

* * *

><p>The day goes by pretty slowly, in Blaine's opinion, him spending most of his time laying in his bed, bundled within the covers and either clutching tightly onto the photo, or staring at it aimlessly for hours at a time.<p>

He doesn't know what's happening to him, why he's gone so quickly from a non-caring asshole to someone who feels things way too much. But he _does _care, he always has, he just hasn't shown it. It's the—the _feelings _he's not used to. They way his heart flutters and accelerates whenever he thinks of Kurt.

Kurt and his thick, shiny hair that although Blaine wants to just run his hands through it all day, he can't because, quite frankly, he is _nothing _to Kurt. Just a random hookup that Kurt has surely gotten over.

Kurt and his soft, pink lips that Blaine has had the pleasure of kissing. Has had them pressed against his own, warm and prominent and making his fingers curl in on themselves. Making his head spin, dizzy.

Kurt and his delicious-looking body. Lithe and long and warm against Blaine. When they'd laid together earlier that day, kissing and touching and everything was so _warm, _hot and Blaine felt as if he'd pass out just from pure pleasure and want and—

_No._ He can't think that way. If there was even a chance of getting over Kurt the smartest thing to do would be to _stop _thinking about him. About kissing him, about being kissed _by _him. About holding him close and—_dammnit._

He sighs, rolling onto his back and running a hand through his hair. He lets the photo lay on his chest, feeling as if it was burning a hole through his shirt but not really caring. His whole body hurts, _aches _and Blaine really doesn't know what to do.

He knows it's not smart to think this way, to _feel _this way and really, he should just forget about Kurt and be done with it but—it's so _hard. _Blaine doesn't _want _to forget. Blaine _wants Kurt _and Kurt—Kurt _doesn't _want Blaine back and that's where the whole problem starts. _Unrequited feelings suck._

He musters up the strength to pull away from his bed, quickly slipping the photo underneath his pillow and turning away. He heads straight out of his room, down the hall and to the bathroom, not bothering to see what Maisie and Kurt are up to. He'd like to say that really he didn't care, either, but of course, he'd be lying.

Blaine is _jealous—_though if asked he'd never admit it—jealous of _Maisie_. Because she has Kurt, she's close to him and Blaine—Blaine _isn't _and that really, really sucks. Like majorly.

And Blaine knows that feeling like this is wrong, that he's put his sister through way too much and really, she doesn't deserve this. She'd found a shelter in Kurt, a _friend_ and, although Blaine's growing infatuation with the boy was making his heart literally _hurt, _he couldn't do that to his sister. He couldn't hurt her. _Not again._

He shakes his head, willing those thoughts to go away. It'd been so long since _then,_ so much had happened but _still _Blaine hadn't quite forgiven himself for—_no. _This was not a time to let old mistakes haunt him. His current dilemma was draining enough, he shouldn't be worrying himself. Maisie had forgiven him in her own little way. He'd _tried _to forgive himself, too, at least.

It was _wrong _to pursue Kurt. Wrong of him to try to steal away someone so precious to his sister.

He locks the bathroom door behind him, quickly shedding his clothes and clambering into the shower. The hot water soothes his aching body, seemingly kneading away all his worries and making him go completely slack. He starts to lather himself up with soap, starting at his shoulders and working down towards his legs.

Ridding himself of all those memories had only brought back more thoughts of Kurt. His hand strays south, and deep down Blaine knows that after he'll feel guilty for doing this, but right now he just needs the release. To indulge in it and maybe, if he's lucky, the feelings might go away.

He thinks about their first tutoring lesson, when he'd had Kurt pinned between him and the couch, their bodies sealed tightly together and the heat surrounding them almost scalding. He thinks about Kurt's breathy little sighs and shaky intakes, how he'd gasped when Blaine had first kissed him, how bleary and fazed-out his eyes looked after.

His fingers slowly curl around his cock, tentatively and slow and still not sure whether this is a good idea. His hand tugs once, twice, and he can feel the weight growing heavier and thicker in his hand each time. He lets out a ragged breath, shoulders slumping forward and bracing his unoccupied hand on the slippery tiles for balance.

He thinks of earlier that day, of Kurt on top of him, straddling him with strong, solid thighs.

His hand starts going faster, tugging harder, and he can feel the coppery tang of blood from where he's biting his lips, trying not to make a sound. He thinks about earlier when Kurt got more daring, when his own hand had trailed down towards Blaine's growing bulge. He thinks about the determined look in his eyes when he'd broken their gaze, the way he'd looked down at his hand and given an experimental squeeze and—

The scorching water pelts down on him, Blaine throughs his head back, a broken moan being ripped from his throat. He imagines what it would have felt like if Kurt had gone on, if Maisie hadn't come home and he'd decided to go further.

A soft, pale finger traces lazy patterns on the exposed part of Blaine's navel. Slow and tantalizing, making Blaine's hands fist the sheets within them, his chest rising and falling, letting out short and quick breaths. The hand slips under the waistband of his boxers, warm and teasing.

Blaine's eyes lock with a bright pair of blue ones as he lets out a groan, fingers close around his cock and stroke from base to tip, then back again. The hand flattens out, palm adding pressure as it starts moving faster, setting a steady rhythm, fingers twisting around the head of his cock at every other stroke.

Blue eyes don't waver, boring into Blaine's own. He feels sweat beading at his scalp, feels the muscles in his stomach contracting. Everything feels too hot, too closed in. The blankets stick to him, tangle in his thrashing feet and make him feel captive, without control.

His body starts to quiver, hips thrusting up looking for friction. The hand strokes faster, rougher, thumb swiping against his slit and smearing pre-come across his length and then repeating the action, harder.

He can feel the tension gathering behind his balls, feel the sparks of pleasure shooting all through him, feel his heart beating fast, faster than it ever has, feel the looming presence of those blue eyes above him. Controlling him. He's completely at their mercy.

"I—I'm g-gona—" Blaine lets out weakly, head falling to the side, toes curling in and hands clasping onto the sheets even tighter.

The boy above him smirks, leaning down, chest slotting snug against Blaine's, thighs clenching tighter around him. _"Come for me, Blaine." _And that's all he needs. His mind goes blank.

* * *

><p><em>"K-Kurt,"<em> he breathes out, his forehead falling to rest on the cool tiles as his body shakes, his orgasm washing over him. His knees feel weak, as in if he'd even try to move, they'd give out. He brings his hand up to the tiles, next to the other, keeping himself upright.

His chest rises and falls, breath slowly coming back to a normal pace. The fog in his mind starts to thin out, allowing coherent thoughts to take domain once again. Without another word he rinses off again, liking the warm feel of the water hitting his skin.

As he dries off, he waits patiently for the guilt to sink in, to settle, but it never comes. He gets dressed, still waiting, and then towel-dries his hair. He feels weird, but not guilty, and it's confusing.

It's like there are a thousand bumble-bees nestled inside of his body, buzzing and making his skin feel funny. It's the most prominent in his stomach, it feels hollow but there's still that distinct buzzing that keeps him perplexed. He doesn't understand it, he's never felt that way before.

It makes his fingers twitch, as if longing to grip on to something, hold something within them—_hell, _the buzzing is making his whole _body _feel cold and longing for something. He takes shaky steps towards the door, curling his fingers around the handle as goosebumps start to trail and twirl around his cold skin. He opens the door, the sound of Kurt and Maisie's laughter trilling through the air. The buzzing doesn't stop—if _anything, _it gets worse.

He breaths in as he clenches his fingers into fists, debating in his head what would be the next best move. He longs to go downstairs—be with _Kurt_, be _warm _again so the buzzing will go away. But the smarter thing to do would be retreat back to his room, give his heart an escape of the unrequited want. Leave it to rest and get better, to fill in the cracks instead of allowing it to be torn to pieces. Broken.

The latter is definitely the best, Blaine thinks, but the buzzing is so insistent and the cold is so chilling that he finds his feet walking him down the stairs of their own accord.

Kurt and Maisie are in the living room watching movies, Blaine gathers as his feet reach the last step and he can hear their voices clearly. The ending credits just start to roll as he sets foot in the room, Maisie jumps up, beams at him, and spouts something incoherent about Disney. Kurt looks up too, smile big and wide as if he hadn't noticed that Blaine was _Blaine, _and they lock eyes, big blue orbs glistening and shiny and incorrigibly innocent.

Blaine swallows and looks away. The buzzing has started to lessen and warmth seeps slowly into his body as he makes his way over to them. His stomach still feels hollow but it churns and twists now, and it makes Blaine feel horrible but—but Kurt is still smiling at him as if nothing has happened. _That's when the guilt finally settles in._

He mumbles something to Maisie about if they mind if joins them and she responds with a laugh, all bright eyes and giggles, and says he can stay as long as _he_ is the one to put the next DVD on. He replies in kind, with a smile and a nod and a _'of course, your majesty' _and slowly traipses over the the television.

Maisie's attention falls on Kurt once more but Blaine can still feel eyes on him. He turns his head just so and his gaze locks with Kurt's once more. His looks haughty, as if just having realised who Blaine was after coming down from his Disney induced high. Blaine pays it no mind, falling straight back into his normal persona with only the slightest hint of regret within him and sends Kurt a smirk and a wink and turns back around.

Blaine chuckles, a slight tinge of pink lacing up his neck as he can still feel eyes boring into him. He flips through the DVDs and finally settles on a random one, opening it up and slotting it into the player. He slowly gets up, taking time to dust off his knees and the turns around.

His eyebrows raise in amusement as he's faced with Kurt, deer-in-headlights look at having been caught staring aimlessly at Blaine's ass. He gulps, face turning a quick shade of red, and looks away. He chuckles, a strange sense of fluttery-ness shooting all through him as he approaches the two on the couch. He sits down, Kurt in between him and his sister and sighs, happily. The guilt is still there churning inside of him but at least the buzzing his gone. The cold pushed away as his body is encased in the warmth that emanates from Kurt body beside him.

Kurt might not want Blaine like Blaine wants Kurt, but one things for sure, he wants him _somewhat _and—and that's kind of awesome.

* * *

><p><strong>[AN]: Feedback would be nice...and thank you for reading! (I'm sorry if this is awful) :D**

**Also...should I change the rating? Is the shower scene enough to merit this fic with an 'M' status instead of 'T'? I don't know...**

**Also (I've decided I'll post this at the end of every chapter I've edited) this fic is currently on pause due to the fact that, a few weeks ago, I decided to read through it and just felt like hiding under a rock and never showing my face ever again. It was so cringe-worthy that I don't even know why anyone read it…but thank you! Anyway, so I decided it needed major editing. So far I only have the first three, once I've done all nine chapters I'll write a new one! Not that I expect anybody to be anxiously waiting for an update or anything, this fic was horrible before, I've only made it slightly less cringe-worthy. So yes, I'm finally editing this fic to make it more reader-friendly. Also, if you're new to reading this fic (though I don't suppose you are) I'd recommend not reading the next chapter until it's edited. It will definitely be very confusing since I've changed the ending to this one.**

**I hope (so far) I've done okay?**


	5. Chapter Five

Kurt's life went on quite normal from then on.

Of course, he still had to put up with Blaine on fridays and saturdays to tutor him, but other than that, he was rid of the boy.

Maisie had taken to spending time in the house during the tutoring sessions and, for a reason unknown to Kurt, Blaine had taken to keeping the flirting to a minimum.

When Maisie didn't stay though, or as soon as she left the room...

Let's just say he wasn't _such _a saint.

Kurt figured though, if he didn't react, if he _ignored _him, he'd soon get bored. Find somebody else to fool around with.

He also tried to ignore the strange feeling that set withing him whenevere he thought about that particular scenario.

It wasn't like he was harboring a crush for the boy, was it?

No. Of course not.

His head flopped down to lay on his outstreched arms.

He'd been trying to do his biology homework for _at least _an hour now. Nothing was working, his mind was too caught up in thoughts of two raven haired siblings.

He could cave in to Blaine, give him what he wanted. But then, simultaneously, he'd loose is friendship with Maisie.

And let's face it. Other than Maisie and Mercedes, who else did Kurt have?

His dad, yeah. But other friends? No. Not any.

Could he really risk loosing Maisie for some _fling _with her older brother?

_What if she doesn't mind though? What if she _didn't _break off our friendship?_

He shook his head.

That was a _terrible _idea. Of course she would. If Kurt were in her place, and Maisie starting having a 'thing' with his older brother, he'd surely feel somewhat betrayed, right?

Letting out a chuckle, he turned his head. Now no longer facing the wood of his desk, he faced the corkboard that was propped up against the wall on top of said desk.

It was filled with silly strips of photo-booth photos, cut-outs of magazines, tickets to shows that he and Maisie had attended, and other things of the sort.

Smiling, he outstreched an arm towards the board, fingers grazing over some of the photo strips.

Both of their smiling faces looked back at him. Genuine wide smiles that went from ear to ear.

There were also a fair share of polaroids -Why Maisie had a polaroid camera, Kurt didn't know- Some of just Kurt, some of Mercedes, some of all _three _crammed together in the picture.

A smile tugged at his lips. He couldn't let that go, could he? It was everything he had.

Sighing, he spun himself around on his desk chair. Eyes scoping out his phone, finding it layed on the dresser, a few feet away from where he sat.

Hooking his foot in the leg of the bed, he pulled himself towards it, barely touching his phone but managing to pick it ip, nonetheless.

It rang out, the soft _'beep-beep' _drumming through Kurt's ear.

**"Hello?"**

"It's me."

**"Kurt! what...what do you want?"**

"Gee, you sure sound pleased to hear from me," He sighed, the small smile at his lips still there, tugging insistently to be shown fully, "Just thought, Now that it's spring break, and I don't have to tutor your brother 'til later...we could, I don't know, go shopping or something?"

There was a slight hesitant breath on the other side of the line.

**"That sounds great, Kurt. Are you sure you want to though, you've seemed kind of **_**distant **_**lately...this is kind of, It's kind of out of the blue."**

"Yeah, I...I've just had lots on my mind..."

**"You can talk to me about it, you know. I won't judge." **

_If only you knew..._

"No really, It's nothing to worry your pretty litle head about." He breathed out, the insistent smile now a bit more noticable; "I've missed you. You know, in these last few weeks..."

**"We saw eachother last night, Kurt."**

"_Saw _being the key-word. We haven't actually hung out since...since the Disney marathon."

**"Don't try blaming this on me, mister. You're the one who's been cooped up in your house _'doing homework'_ all week."**

"Whatever, do you want to come shopping or not?"

**"Yeah, sure, might as well. Should I come pick you up or...?"**

"I'll walk up to your house, My dad's still fixing my car. So that's out of the option."

**"Okay, see you in what, an hour?"**

"I'm ready, It'll only take me a few minutes to get to your house, are you decent?"

**"I'm wearing clothes, If that's what your asking...I'm not like-" **She cut off, letting out a small laugh. **"Like **_**Blaine,**_** who walks around **_**half naked!"**_

A faint shout of _'I'm wearing my boxers!' _could be heard in the background, muffled slightly.

Kurt couldn't help but let out a small laugh himself.

_Siblings... _He thought.

**"Anyways, yeah. See you in a minute, then. It shouldn't take me long to get ready. Wait in the launge, if not."**

Again there was a muffled out shout of _'__**I'll **__keep him company...' _In the background.

**"Oh shut up you! As if your even Kurt's type!" **Maisie countered back, now seemingly ignoring the call completely.

The countertenor held his breath, Blaine was s_ure _to say something.

_There goes keeping it a secret._

Maybe, Maybe if he hadn't kept it to himself, If he'd just told her when it first happened...This wouldn't, It wouldn't be so bad.

He bit his lip, everything he could hear was silence. Of course, other than the fast _'thump-thump' _of his heart against his ribcage.

He could slowly see his world crumbling down. But then-

Silence.

_Silence?_

He hadn't said anything?

"Maisie?" He asked, tentively.

**"M'yeah..?"**

"You just went all quiet... all of a sudden."

**"Nah, Kurt. Just telling my brother to get lost and put a shirt on-" **He let out a breath he didn't even _know _he'd been keeping. **"See you in a bit then, I'm gonna go head off and get changed..."**

"Yes. Yeah, see you in a bit."

Then the line went dead.

Shoving his phone in his trouser pocket, he through his head back, simultaneously leaning his whole body back in his desk chair.

"He didn't say anything?" He muttered out in disbelief. "He didn't say anything!"

His hand came up to his face, dragging themselves down as thoughts whizzed in and out of Kurt's mind.

_Why _hadn't he said anything?

What reason did he have _not _to?

He rubbed at his temple.

Maybe Blaine had gotten the message the last time they had made out? That Kurt other than _clearly _not wanting anything to do with Blaine, also didn't want Maisie to find out about their litle _redezvous _either.

Ultimately, Blaine came across as an obnoxious, full of it _asshole, _that didn't give a damn about anybody else.

Kurt portrayed him as the tipical badboy, because francly, what would he be if not?

It couldn't all just be an _act, _could it?

If so then, w_hy?_

Pushing himself up of the chair, he made quick job of putting his shoes on and making his way downstairs. His dad, like always, was in the garage, working on some car -this time Kurt's, for that matter-.

Picking up a lone pen from on top of a counter, he scrawled out a messy note, leaving it next to his fathers lunch, for him to see later that day.

The street was rather calm, for a saturday morning. Normally every other house would have children playing on the gardens. Or people would take the time to walk their dog, or simply take a walk.

Not this saturday it seemed.

Turning up his nose, he began to walk, filled with confidence.

Why though, he didn't know. He had nothing to be confident about. The thought of Maisie finding out about his and Blaine's previous doings had him on edge.

The lack of cheery-ness the street was emiting wasn't helping either, had the world come together to make Kurt feel gloomy, or...or what?

Sighing, he shook his head. Surely it was just his imagination. Today was just like any other, nothing bad was going to happen. Of course not.

But still, he couldn't quite get that nagging feeling from the back of his head to go away.

Would mulling over the subject make anything any better? If he didn't stop, he might let something slip in Maisie's presence.

His legs began their trek towards his friends house. Kurt trying his hardest to push all thoughts about what he clearly wasn't supposed to be thinking about, out of his mind.

He'd just have to pay extra care to what he said, not insinuate anything.

Why was it that he couldn't get him and Blaine kissing out of his mind, anyway?

It had happened weeks ago. Any inkling of atraction that Kurt had towards the other teen had most definitely gone away. Most definitely.

Looking up, he stopped his tracks. He was there. The big house seeming to look down on him. Judging.

He shook his head, because no, of course not, houses don't do that! and lifted his hand to knock at the door.

One, two, three times he did.

He kept his eyes trained on the floor. Still trying to clear his mind of all guilty thoughts.

He was Kurt Hummel! He shouldn't have to go through all this. It just wasn't right.

A pair of socked feet came into his line of vision, his eyes trailed upwards, following the toned legs -clearly a swimmer, of sorts- noticing that the only thing the other was wearing were boxers.

_Boxers!_

Oh, and a shirt.

"Why hello there, sweetcheeks!"

He came face to face with one Blaine Anderson


	6. Chapter Six

Eyes trained on the carpet, Kurt shifted, uncomfortable in his seat.

He could feel an insistent stare from across the room. Much like a few weeks ago on the bus, it was boring into him. This time his front, instead of his back.

As mentioned before, Blaine had been quite civil since their last encounter in his room. He stopped with the lewd comments, or the insistent _-blazing-_ stares.

Of course though, as said, that was only because his younger sister was normally in the room or in the room adjacent, so she could still hear everything.

Kurt didn't exactly know _why _Blaine had taken to Kurt's requests, because _supposedly _he didn't care if his sister thought it wrong or not.

Nonetheless, he made sure of not to cross the line in her presence.

_Kind of..._

There were still small looks sent Kurt's way, or slight brushes from the other boy. As well, Blaine always made a quick job of, once they were alone, to sit _right _next to Kurt. Their thighs pressed firmly together.

Eyes downcast, Kurt shifted in his seat again, bringing one hand to his pocket to retrieve his phone.

Saving the carpet the carpet from his insistant glares, he trained his look on the screen of his mobile.

He'd been there around ten minutes already; _still _Maisie had made no comment on being ready. She hadn't even come down to greet him, or anything. She'd left that to her brother, to _Blaine._

Daring to look up, he found no eyes staring back.

The faint _'thump-thump' _of music could be heard from upstairs. Kurt was fairly sure it was coming from Maisie's room. It had been going since he got here.

This, he found, was his chance at getting away without Blaine making a move to stop him.

Getting up, he made his way to the archway that led to the corridor. There, he found the stairs, leading upstairs, of course, the front door, and, along the hall, more rooms.

He remembered Maisie mentioning the dining room and the music room being there somewhere.

Hand placed atop the banister of the stairs, he made to step upon the first one.

He was focused on other things, he didn't stop to notice that the same pair of eyes from before were still, in fact, trailing after him, just from behind this time.

Overwhelming feelings of guilt, confusion, anger, _shame _lay within him. Churning and pulling and making him feel crushed inside.

Why couldn't he just pluck up the courage and _tell _her? Tell her that he was a lying, _backstabbing _friend that fooled around with her brother behind her back, and why, just w_hy _ could he not get these silly, _confusing, _feelings for Blaine, to _go away_.

His life might have seemed perfect to onlookers, being who he was, _Kurt Hummel._

They either wanted him or envied him.

He _loved _that.

But really, who was he kidding? It was a monotone, _emotionless _life.

He had the total of _two _friends. And other than them, only his dad, that _actually _cared for him.

He may be wanted, but he was never _pursued._

Is that why he found Blaine so enthralling?

Because he actively went _after _Kurt, he chased after him c_ountless _times.

Others would attempt it once, then deemed themselves defeated. Nobody really _tried._

Is that what Kurt had wanted all this time? Someone who tried?

He shook his head, one foot planting itself firmly on the first step.

Today he wasn't going to allow himself to think of all that. He was going to have fun. He was going to go shopping, be with Maisie, act _normal._

Because that's what he always did. When things got hard, he'd shut everything within him and try his best to ignore it. He'd go on shopping sprees, always buy the most expensive clothing that, most of the time, he never even ended up wearing.

He'd treat himself to extravagancies that, in reality, he didn't really need.

Because that's who Kurt Hummel was. A lifeless person that used money to buy happiness.

He was the truth, in human form, that you just _couldn't _do it though.

Because no matter what he bought, no matter how many people looked up at him in admiration, with want. He'd never be happy. He'd never _been _happy.

Strong arms circled his waist, keeping him in place. He could feel warmth pressed against his shoulder.

"Stop thinking so hard, it makes you look unpretty."

Warm breath brushed against his ear. The back of his neck reddening, he could feel the blush coming.

"What do you want, Blaine?"

From where he was, chin resting on Kurt's shoulder, he let out a soft chuckle. The action making Kurt fairly sure that his cheeks were a full blown red, now.

"And don't you say _me, _because you know that's not going to happen."

"N'awww, and here was me thinking we could get some quality make-out time today."

Kurt's breath hitched. Turning his head away from Blaine, he breathed out, "Your sister is _just _upstairs, she could catch us any minute."

"Doesn't that make it all the more _thrilling_?" He punctuated that with a firm kiss to Kurt's neck.

His grip tightened on the banister.

"We can't."

Blaine breathed out, "We _can..._" He trailed off, nipping at Kurt's earlobe.

Shakily, he let the banister go. His hands moving slowly, shaking slightly, towards where Blaine's hands met, gripping lightly at Kurt's stomach.

His first thought had been to pull the hands away, tell Blaine to stop, then go and meet Maisie upstairs.

Instead his hands molded with Blaine's own, fingers twining together.

He should stop this, he really should. But all resolves he once had, were slowly fading away. This was what he wanted, he couldn't hold back any longer.

A tongue flicked out to trace _that _stop just behind his ear. Nipping and sucking followed soon after.

_"B-Blaine..."_

He breathed out.

* * *

><p><em>"Why hello there, sweetcheeks!"<em>

There was a pause.

"Oh, it's you."

Blaine frowned at that.

"Of course it is. This is my house too, you know. I even put a shirt on! Just because you were coming."

"Oh _gee, _that's so nice of you!" Sarcasm dripped off his words in bucket-loads.

Blaine huffed.

"Whatever, Hummel. You comin' in or what?"

Narrowing his look at Blaine, he turned his nose up and pushed passed him through the door.

Blaine turned slowly, eyes trailing after the chestnut haired boy.

"Your ass is looking _mighty _fine today..." He trailed off, eyes locked on said asset.

Kurt paused, his neck reddening, but he didn't turn.

"Way out of your league Anderson. _Way out of your league..._"

Smirking, the curly haired teen shut the door.

Kurt was most definitely blushing. _Blushing! _And Blaine had caused it.

That, that exactly, is why he'd been keeping at bay for so much time.

It was killing Blaine, yeah. Knowing that if he'd wanted to, he could have Kurt at any moment. Kurt wasn't accustomed to bodily contact, at least, bodily contact with another _male._ All Blaine had to do was push a few buttons and all restraint the other teen had would go flying out the window.

But he didn't, that's the case.

Kurt had told him he didn't want any of it. That it was just a one off.

Blaine wasn't going to stand for that, of course not.

Admittedly, the first time he'd laid eyes on Kurt, all that time ago on the bus; was that he'd make a good fuck.

Said thought remained in Blaine's mind when first talking to him, too.

His voice, oh how he'd _love _to hear that voice screaming out his name.

But then of course, Kurt had left. And Blaine hadn't even gotten a number or, or _anything._

So he kind of forgot, _kind of._

Because even though all Blaine wanted was to get a rise out of the other boy, he couldn't help but think that other than _hot _or _smokin'_, Kurt was kind of _beautiful._

Bright blue eyes, porcelain skin that blushed _'oh so easily', _it kind of caught him of guard.

Because he wasn't expecting it, he really wasn't.

Then, _then, _he'd had another brief encounter with him outside of Dalton. Admittedly, not quite what Blaine was expecting, since he'd spent the whole day fantasizing about all _other _ways they could have met again. But it was still something, right?

He'd gotten a name that time, _Kurt Hummel._

And everything sort of clicked.

_Everybody _knew who _Kurt Hummel _was. Even Blaine, who was fairly ignorant to anything but himself, had heard of Kurt.

Not much, but still.

Silly things like, a few Dalton students that he passed in the hallway had mentioned how much they'd like to _'get to know' _the boy, getting to know, of course, meaning _other _things entirely.

Or a group of girls, _Crawford Girls, _he'd sat in front of in the bus. Who were gushing about Kurt like he was some kind of global superstar.

Blaine didn't exactly get it.

So apparently this boy was attractive and loaded, what made him so special, though?

Then he met him, of course, and in a way he understood why.

Because Kurt was a mystery, hard to figure out. Nobody really knew him, not well enough as to tell you simply what his favourite colour was, or his favourite film.

Blaine had gone home that night, thoughts still plagued by that of one certain blue eyed boy, to find his sister waiting up.

_"Mama and Papa aren't here, Blainey. I thought you might get sad being all alone..."_

Blaine had asked why, confused, because ever since coming out as gay, and rebelling against his parents, he'd been _alone _anyway.

_"Was gonna go to my friend Kurt's house for a sleepover, had to bail last minute..."_

At that, he grinned.

Days went by and -via mobile phone- Blaine found out more and more of his sister and Kurt's relationship.

They'd been close friends ever since the Andersons had moved to Westerville. According to her, they'd kind of clicked because Kurt had found refuge in being close to someone like him. It made him, somewhat, _happy._

Like that, Blaine kind of got an insight to what Kurt was really like. That being obnoxious and full of it was just a front, because he didn't want to get hurt.

Blaine understood in a way, he'd had to witness his sister go through _so many _heartbreaks, it pained him to know how cruel people could be.

It had only been a few days since the Friday evening that Blaine had met Kurt. He was sitting, minding his own business, in his dorm. After yet another call from his sister.

That day, _-Tuesday, was it? - _was when the school faculty dropped the bomb.

Even though he'd been behaving exceptionally well, by not acting up or getting in any fights, Blaine was still failing classes due to lack of interest and not doing homework. He'd have no trouble getting his grades back up in most classes, which was for sure. Except in two _particular _ones, French and Biology.

If he didn't get a tutor, of sorts, and ace both classes by the end of the next term, He'd have to spend _another _year at reform.

So Maisie had taken it upon herself to find him a tutor, she'd said she knew exactly the person who could help him out.

One _Kurt Hummel._

And well, the rest is history from there.

After two rather _heated _make-out sessions, Blaine had formulated a plan to win Kurt over.

Spending so much time together, had given Blaine his own look into what Kurt was really like.

At first, he'd tried to ignore all the feelings nagging away inside of him. He did, but barely.

It was becoming harder and harder though, because slowly, he was starting to accept that, maybe, just _maybe, _he had feelings for Kurt.

Like _real _feelings.

And if Blaine tried hard enough, he was pretty sure he could convince Kurt that it was _okay _to reciprocate.

That's how he found himself now, leaning against the archway the led to the living room, staring at Kurt.

The countertenor was standing awkwardly, staring at Blaine.

"What are you looking at?"

The curly haired boy just chuckled, and made his way to the table across the room, seating himself. Elbows leaning against the wood of the table, and his chin placed within his palms.

_"You."_

He stated simply, Kurt blushed _-again- _while making his way over to a sofa, sitting down. Blaine tried to suppress the squeal waiting to come out.

Because even though he'd accepted long ago that he had feelings for Kurt, that didn't mean he was any less badass. He was just having a momentary change in personality, at least until he got Hummel in his pants, for good, then he could go back to his bad boy ways.

_"Whatever." _Kurt mumbled, placing his hands in his lap and looking away.

A smile tugged at Blaine's lips. He knew, he just _knew, _that soon enough, Kurt Hummel would be _his._

* * *

><p><em>Where are you, man? thought we were gonna hang out at that old warehouse today? -A<em>

The message shook Blaine of his staring trance. He hadn't taken his eyes off Kurt in all the time he'd been sitting there.

Kurt had limited himself to stare intently at the carpet, as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

Blaine's eyes trailed up and down his features before turning back to the screen of his phone.

Quietly he got up and made his way to the hall, hoping that at least that way, he'd cause a reaction in the other teen.

He didn't.

Once reaching the hall, he lent against one of the walls. Sliding down, eyes still trained on the screen of his phone.

He'd been mulling over the thought of bailing out on Andrew and asking Maisie to hang out at the mall with her and Kurt.

But he couldn't, could he? That would seem suspicious. She'd think something was up. He'd kind of promised himself that, in favour to win Kurt over, he'd have to wait until Kurt _himself _told his younger sister what had gone down between the two. Blaine couldn't do it; if he did he knew that the bright eyed boy would get mad.

_Don't know Drew. I was thinking of hanging with my sis at the mall, wanna come?-B_

The reply was almost immediate. He smirked slightly. Andrew had it _bad._

_Yeah, sure. Meet you there. -A_

It was then that he heard the faint patter of feet in the living room, coming out into the hall. He looked up to see Kurt, at the foot of the stairs, one hand gripping on to the railing and a lost look in his eyes.

Instinctively Blaine shot up, making his way towards him.

That's how he found himself now, wound around Kurt, said boy's head resting against his shoulder, while a hand gripped at the back of his neck.

Kurt was panting out Blaine's name loudly, just a bit longer and he'd be _moaning _it. Blaine was sure; _sure, _that with the pipes this lad had on him even the music upstairs wouldn't cancel the noise out.

If Blaine let himself get too caught up, everything he'd built would come crashing down.

It was damn hard though, stopping. It wasn't easy. Not when he had Kurt panting out his name, writhing under his kisses. Instead of it all being hot and needy like the other times, this was much slower, _sweeter._

And then of course it was over.

Blaine heard a door shut upstairs, soft footsteps coming nearer and nearer.

Clamping a hand over Kurt's mouth, he dragged them both into the living room. Pressing the taller boy up against the wall, he put a finger to his lips, motioning him to be quiet. Before, finally -though regrettably- he unwound himself from Kurt, and walked back into the hall.

"Kurt?" Came from atop the stairs. "Oh, Blaine! Is Kurt here?"

"Yeah, has been for quite a while. Sure do know how to keep people waiting, _sis._"

Gasping, hand clamping over her mouth, she came rushing down the stairs, stumbling on the last two, and falling straight into her brother's awaiting arms.

"You do that way to much, you know. We should make a rule of _no running down the stairs._"

Straitening herself up and flattening her slightly rumpled clothes, she poked her tongue out at him.

_"You act like mama. You're boring!"_

And then she went skipping into the living room.

* * *

><p>Breathing harshly, Kurt made quick job of standing up straight and running a hand through his hair, in atempt to fix his <em>-surely- <em>disheveled appereance.

While walking over to the couch, he looked himself over making sure that none of...what happened _earlier, _would be noticeable on him.

Sighing in relief he slumped into the sofa, just in time to look casual enough as his friend skipped in, calling out _"Kuuuurt!" _in a sing-song voice.

"_Hello _Maisie. Nice to see you've _finally _decided to make an appearance."

She huffed crossing her arms.

"I was distracted, got sidetracked while choosing what clothes to wear. I was still in my pajamas when you called."

_"Distracted?"_

Kurt drawled out, in attempt to avoid his now accelerating heartbeat. Blaine had come into the room, smiling smugly towards Kurt.

"Andrew texted me while I was up there. Got caught up in conversation..."

_"Andrew?"_

"Yeah."

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, somewhere down the lines of _'he's no good, he attends a reform school, yadda yadda yadda' _but stopped himself.

He was being a hypocrite, _obviously._

Because Blaine, _Blaine _was all those things too.

"He wanted to make sure it was okay to hang out with us at the mall." She paused, turning to face her brother. "I suspect _you're _the one that bought it up, yes?"

Blaine nodded, smug look not wavering at all.

"I guess you can, it's not like _I'd _mind." She turned to face Kurt again. "Do you?"

Kurt wanted to say, something like _'Of course I mind' _but, yet again stopped himself, because _really? _If he minded being in Blaine's company so much. Then what was that back there, in the hall?

_A momentary lapse of judgment._

He shook his head, willing the thought to go away. 'Cause that's all it was, a thought, it was obvious he had _some _inkling of feelings towards Blaine. He just hoped that if he let it show, he wouldn't come out hurt.

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

And the toothy grin that Blaine sent his way, kind of, -though if you asked him, he wouldn't admit it-, made him smile as well.


	7. Chapter Seven

_._

_"I'm aware, you know." There's an intake of breath, a shifting of feet. "You and Him, I know." A small smile tugs at pink lips. "I know."_

.

"You, You're an abomination! You have no sense in fashion _at all!_"

"And? I don't see why that matters..." There's a shrug following the statement

Kurt gapes, mouth falling open and shut various times in disbelief.

"You don't...You don't see why that _matters? _Of course it matters you- _you_ _ignorant-"_

There's a quick warn of _"Kurt." _that cuts him off.

He straightens, daintily picking off invisible lint from his sweater. "I was just saying that wearing a leather jacket at _all _the time just isn't acceptable. This is not _Grease, _This is _Ohio_."

There's a huff of annoyance from Andrew. Obviously not used to Kurt's antics. The countertenor makes to go on, his mouth seconds away from spewing another -in his mind- witty retort.

"Just leave it be, Kurt. Not _everybody _can be just as utterly _fabulous _as you."

A glare gets shot at the curly haired teen. "Shut it, Anderson, or I'll start on _you _next."

He receives a scoff. Meanwhile, a small arm hooks itself around his elbow, a knee nudging his own.

"Let's go get coffee or something. I'm sure we're all in great need of it." Maisie drags him away while stating this, elbow hooked around Kurt and a slight spring in her step. A toothy grin pulls at her mouth, obviously enjoying the funny banter between her group of..._friends, _If that's what you could call them.

Andrew and Blaine trail along behind, left to deal with the mother load of shopping bags that both Kurt _and _Maisie had insisted on not being able to carry.

Kurt can't help but feel strange at the utter normalcy that the situation entails. His mind providing many other scenarios of the four teens being like this in so many other cases. It's like their friends, kind of, it feels _nice._

He feels, for once, that he belongs.

He doesn't outshine, he just blends in, and he likes it.

Andrew and Maisie get along swimmingly. Kurt often catches the sneaky glances Maisie shoots the boy, and in turn, the rather not-very-well-hidden glances that Andrew shoots back.

It's adorable, simply put. At least to Kurt. Because it's normal, it's like there are no ulterior motives. He knows, _he just knows_ that Maisie can feel it too. He's happy for her. He's happy that, for once, she seems to have found somebody who sees her for _her _and not for her pretty exterior.

Then there's Blaine. _Blaine._

What was he to make of Blaine? It seemed he'd got him all wrong. Who could blame him, though?

It's not like it had been a very good first impression. Or their second meeting, that hadn't proved much different either. All Blaine had seemed was a rather annoying, reform-attending teen that got on Kurt's nerves.

Then the tutoring sessions came, with that their...how to put it, sneaky rendezvous? He honestly didn't know. They'd been intimate -if you could call it that- a few times, but not much else.

Sometimes Blaine was a complete jerk, the epitome of bad-boy. But then sometimes he'd smile, a real honest-to-god smile, which pulled a smile out of Kurt as well. He was always left at a loss of what to do. He just didn't understand.

_Why? _

Why did he get the insistent feeling of, what did people normally use, butterflies? But no, not at all, it felt more like a s_tampede_. A stampede of bulls, or...or horses! Or even better, _elephants. _Just running around freely through his stomach, stomping on whatever they could find. It left him feeling fuzzy, _warm._

_Why? _He didn't know why. As said before, he didn't understand.

But he figured he could deal with it, keep it to himself. It would go away eventually, right?

_"Grande non-fat mocha?" _

There's a paper cup nudged into his hands. He looks up, hazel eyes locking onto his. His heart stops, the stampede comes, his cheeks heat up. He doesn't know what to do.

"At least you can get _something _right." He states, snatching the cup. The expectant stare he'd been receiving looked away in defeat.

His mind doesn't comprehend why he acts this way, he wants to be nice, and he wants to be liked, _really _liked. But this is all he knows. Don't let people close, then they can't hurt you. Simple it seemed, right? Not at _all._

He sighs.

"Sorry...I, I didn't mean that."

Blaine shoots him a smile -it's only small but it's _something- _falling into step beside him, the table in which Andrew and Maisie are waiting isn't too far away, but far enough to not see them properly, -but Blaine's smile is back and, just for that moment, it seems like the best part of Kurt's day.

He's used to feeling wary, the only thing he'd normally receive from the other boy are cheeky winks and seductive smirks. Nothing like this, nothing full blown and _real. _He used to think Blaine was no good, that if anybody were to hurt him, Blaine would come first in flying colours. Now though, now he's not so sure.

Because now, in that moment, it's just them and nothing else matters. All emotions Kurt has ever lacked in, all emotions he's never actually really _felt _are now there.

Pulling and tugging inside of him, insistent, prominent.

_They're not going away._

Their hands brush together, a fast jolt of _something _rushes through Kurt's veins. It's hot, It makes him feel tingly. Blue eyes that had, for a few moments, just been staring at nothing other than their touching hands, look up to find hazel ones. Blaine had been doing much of the same.

Had he felt it aswell?

The warm fuzziness in his belly comes back, -along with the herd of elephants, but the loud and thrashing _thump-thump-thump _of his heart, kind of block them out- He's pretty sure he's blushing too, with a silly smitten smile plastered across his face.

There's a pause. Time goes in slow motion. So _-so- _slow, nothing moves, It's just them. Blaine and Kurt. Then,_ It all ends._ Time flows forward again at full force.

He gets whipped straight back into reality. Harsh, _horrible, _reality.

A shoulder collides with his own. A faint, but still loud enough mumble of _"Fags" _is sent their way and suddenly all feelings are gone. An icy, faraway look takes over Kurt and he's back to normal.

He was stupid, so _stupid._

He marches quickly towards the table, only stops to see if Blaine is following. He's not. He just stands there in the middle of the coffee shop, fists clenching and unclenching, eyes trailing after the oaf of a guy from before with hatred clearly filled within them, his jaw is pulled tight, a frown etched upon his face, too. Kurt hesitates, he calls out.

"Come _on_, Blaine, the coffee will get cold."

What he receives is a look of concern and disbelief, as if Blaine can't fully understand why on earth he'd let that guy off so easily. He cares, it seems. Cares _too much_, in Kurt's opinion.

The countertenor turns his nose up, whipping his head away from the other boy, walking directly to their expectant friends. Oblivious friends. They hadn't even noticed what had happened. Fury swells up in him while watching Maisie and Andrew laugh about something or other. Both of their faces lighting up.

They don't have a care in the world,_ why would they?_

Shaking his head, step by step Blaine makes his way towards the table too. Step by step he lets his anger float away, he closes in on himself just as Kurt seems to be doing.

The chestnut haired boy sits down daintily, Blaine taking the seat beside him. They share one last look while they slide their friend's coffees over to them. Kurt warns him, a sharp look etched into his normally bright vibrant eyes. They're just dull now.

He warns Blaine, just with a simple look.

_Then_, he turns his head. _Then_ he looks away from Blaine and determinedly doesn't talk or make eye contact with him for the rest of the time at the coffee shop.

_It keeps on._

He ignores him while shopping too. Only asking Andrew and Maisie opinions -the latter ones being the only one which Kurt actually trusts- and pointedly avoiding Blaine.

He doesn't acknowledge him in the least. It's like as if he's not even _there._

It hurts, it hurts so badly.

It's confusing too. Blaine shouldn't _be _hurting. It'll only take a turn for the worst.

He shouldn't care about Kurt. He shouldn't care about _anything._

But he does, believe me, he does.

It eats away inside of him, he doesn't know what to do.

Would Kurt want him? He had seemed rather keen earlier. But then again, as known by the earlier events, he might turn away at the slightest chance of trouble.

Not might, w_ill._

Because Blaine knows Kurt. He knows he's just a stuck up, narcissistic _bitch _who only cares for himself. The only thing he ever does his worry about himself. Nobody else _matters. _Clearly.

That doesn't stop Blaine wanting though, of course not. The feeling is still there, it still tugs and pulls and makes his belly do flip flops whenever Kurt's around.

It makes Blaine feel like a pre-pubescent girl fawning over the hottest new boy-band.

It makes him feel _weird._

He doesn't like it, no. There's also nothing he can do about it, either. Other than let it run it's course.

And that's what it does.

That's how he finds himself in his newest predicament.

* * *

><p>Hazel eyes latched onto a familiar mop of immaculately styled chestnut hair, Blaine trails after Kurt.<p>

Ever since the recent happenings at the coffee shop, the curly haired teen has felt the sudden _need _to protect the other boy.

_As if that would help anything, though._Kurt had been avoiding him at all costs, obviously intent of making a point.

But if he wasn't going to defend himself, who would? Blaine was at a loss. Should he just let it go?

Kurt had been avoiding him at all costs, obviously intent of making a point.

But if he wasn't going to defend himself, who would? Blaine was at a loss. Should he just let it go? If it was what Kurt wanted...

But _no. _How could he even think that?

What if something like this happened again? What if Kurt, like earlier, left it be and didn't react? What if it was _more _than just a push or a shove?

_What if?_

At the moment, they're in some fancy clothing shop, Blaine stopped taking note of what stores were what _ages _ago.

Kurt makes his way deftly through rack after rack of clothes. Blaine follows silently, every so often helping Kurt carry his newly acquired shopping bags when he sees the boy struggling, or helping him carry clothes towards the changing rooms.

Kurt still doesn't look at him, doesn't thank him either. But he doesn't stop him, he just let's him. That's good enough. For Blaine, at least.

The shorter teen is more preocupied in musing in his own feelings, his own thoughts. He has been for a while, he doesn't notice an insistent pair of hazel eyes latched on to _him_. No. He also doesn't notice the strangly familiar figure of a person entering the shop.

He's selfish, Blaince thinks to himself, letting out a tired sigh. Would he even be any good for Kurt?

If they hadn't met on that bus that day, or if Maisie hadn't set up their classes, would Kurt have even given someone like Blaine a second thought? A second _glance_?

Blaine was a screw up, he knew that. It kept him awake at night, thinking of all the times he's let people down.

On manier occasions he's been selfish, too selfish, and earnd himself mistrust. Mistrust from friends, mistrust from his own _family, _even.

Shaking his head in defeat, he lets out another sigh. He'd never been good enough, why feel sorry about it now? It wouldn't help things, why dwell on it?

His eyes fall on Kurt again.

A few racks away from the countertenor, Blaine is too preoccupied watching said boy to notice a large bulky body not too far away. Eyes also trained on Kurt. A snide look etched across his face. A disgusted grow slipping through his lips.

He's too preoccupied to see him come _closer, closer. _He doesn't even _notice._

And then there's another presence, just beside him. The familiar smell of vanilla wafts his way, he smiles through an intake of breath. The fragrance always reminding him of a place to call _home. _Of a place to just be him.

He feels the heat of a head laid on his shoulder, a small hand tracing patterns up and down his forearm.

If anything, the Anderson siblings were _quite _the touchy feely pair.

Other than the affectionate actions though, there's something in the air, something odd. Blaine can't sense it. He can only sense his sister, an overwhelming and prominent presence.

There's also something that clings to her too. As if there's something she needs to say, something important.

_"I'm aware, you know." _There's an intake of breath, a shifting of feet. _"You and Him, I know." _A small smile tugs at pink lips. _"I know."_

His breathing stops, his mind blanks out. "You do?"

He gets a hum in response.

"Is it-" he pauses, a strange, unwanted -but he'd be lying to himself if he said he'd meant that- feeling overtaking him. It's hope, he's fairly sure. _Would he finally be able to pursue Kurt freely? Would Kurt finally accept him?_ Then there's a sinking feeling in his stomach, what if Kurt _really _didn't want him, though? Nervous-ness, he thinks. It overwhelms everything else. "Is it okay?"

This time, in reply, he receives a playful chuckle. "It's not really my choice though, is it? I'm not here to dictate your life..." she trails off, Blaine is sure he could hear the faint _"That's what mama and papa do.." _that comes shortly after.

A sense of relief is what overpowers now. He can't help that toothy grin that forms on his face.

A huge weight is lifted off his shoulders. A warm feeling fully engulfing him, making him feel nervous and jitterish, like a thirteen year-old girl about to ask out her chrush.

After months and months of dreary moods and full blown anger it seems now, all _that _has been snatched up and warped. Prodded and poked. Molded into something completely different.

He feels free, like he could do anything. His eyes latch onto Kurt again. His smile grows larger, if even possible.

There's a nudge at his back, he stumbles forwards reminding himself much,_ too much, _of his old self, of the old Blaine.

The slightly naïve, slightly oblivious, but above all _happy _teen he once was. Pride engulfs him. The sense of change he'd longed for so _-so- _long now finally there. Up for grabs. He could do anything. He could have _Kurt._

There's a light, joking mumble of _"Go get 'im, tiger!" _as Maisie nudges him towards the countertenor again.

Nothing can stop him, _nothing. _

But then of course it does. Everything comes crashing down.

His whole world gets put on pause.

Slowly, _so slowly, _everything falls to bits.

There's a shove, a disgusted yell of _"Hey homo!"_

Kurt's posture wavers, slumps, his eyes go wide.

First it seems like he's about to fight back, like Kurt is going to stick up for himself. There's fire in his eyes as he takes a step forward to the hulking figure of the stranger. There's determination.

All too soon it's gone. The blank stare from before comes back, Kurt goes stiff and rigid. The air palpable with the iciness that he emits. It's like he's giving up, like he doesn't see the point.

Blaine just can't grasp _why._

The Neanderthal just takes it as a sign of weakness, he shoves Kurt harder, causing him to topple into a manikin, both crashing to the floor.

"Not so tough now are you, _fag?_" He laughs, evil smirk in place, a satisfied look in his eyes. Blaine goes _mad._

In seconds he's on top of him, kicking, thrashing, _and hurting _wherever he can. The other man reciprocates, punches flying in all directions.

Blaine doesn't stop, he _can't _stop. He punches, he kicks. By no means does he have an advantage though. He might be strong. But he's also small. The man is bigger than Blaine, tougher, it's obvious he'll win. There's a growing pain engulfing his head. Blaine doesn't stop though. Neither does the other man.

The play button his pressed, and now his world is moving again. It's all real, he knows. He doesn't stop though.

He ignores the stabbing of something in his head, the hands that grasp at his elbows, his arms, _anywhere they can, _trying to pull him off.

Blaine just grips onto the man tighter, hitting harder.

Catching Blaine offguard, though, the man manages to flip them over, his big frame crushing Blaine, punches coming like no tomorrow.

There are screams shot at them both, begging them to just give up.

Blaine doesn't stop.

The pain at his head overwhelms him. Everything starts fading, black tugs at the edges of his vision. He falls, back, back, _back. _Images, memories whiz through his eyes.

Memories of how he turned out the way he was, memories of his fathers disapproving glare, his mothers worried look. One the most prevalent.

He slowly lets himself go.

Golden hazel-green eyes look back at him. Much like his own, but so _-so- _different. They're softer, they show more emotion. One emotion though, fills them to the brim.

_Disappointment._

Blaine finally stops.

* * *

><p><strong><em>And now I'm going to proceed by shamlessly plugin my tumblr here, because, yah-know?<em>**

**_becauseilikepenguins(dot)tumblr(dot)com (Now I think I've done it right this time... And ugh yeah, remove the (dot) and ughh, add an actual dot? I don't know...)_**


	8. Chapter Eight

Something soft prods gently at his skin. Its damp, moist, it also stingsa bit. He tries not to flinch.

Blaine stirs a little, his head pounding, it feels as if he'd been run over by a car and then a stampede of animals had squashed him. His head is laid on something warm, it shifts slightly when Blaine moves and immediately he can feel eyes on him.

He doesn't will his own to open though; he knows his body probably won't be able to ake it.

There's pain everywhere, everything stings. It burns, it aches, and Blaine just wants to die.

His breathing is heavy, labored, in the back of his mind he knows it's accompanied by someone else's. He still can't bare to look.

Just a moment longer

It's what he goes over and over in his head. Just a moment longer of resting, of being at peace, even though the pain was making it almost unbearable. He just wants to be, even if it's just for a while.

He can still feel a big hulking body over his own; if he lets his thoughts get the better of him. It reminds him of so many years ago, when Blaine was still Blaine and not this lewd guy he made himself up to be.

That had been long ago though, when he was a naïve boy who only cared about what other people thought of him. He loved the limelight, he loved being praised.

He was always second-best though, always.

No matter how much he tried, he'd never been good enough. He had been once, yeah, but things change. The younger Blaine hadn't been ready to accept that.

He wills his brain to not bring that up, that it's childish, but he's worn out, he can't help it. It plagues him; the memory is so real he just can't push it away.

It had all started a while ago, quite a while indeed. Blaine was at the tender age of a year and a half when his parents got the news. He hadn't really understood back then, how could he? But soon enough, he'd understood all to well, he hated it.

Jealousy, huh? It does things to people, it changes them. Never for the better, of course.

When his younger sister had been born, all attention had been drawn to her. Stolen from Blaine.

She had bright hazel eyes that looked up at you curiously, golden skin that just glowed, and an air of happiness that brought a smile to anybody's face.

They'd grown older, Blaine always trying his best to excel and Maisie excelling without even trying.

Blaine was ignored, or so he thought.

He was smart, all his teachers said so, and he was a person of many talents. But so was Maisie, and that's where it all went wrong.

Everything Blaine did, Maisie did better. He saw _red._

Blaine was eight when he _really_ thought he understood, Maisie was just seven.

He was different, that's what it was. Although he excelled at the arts, he loved to sing and had a good knack for acting; those really weren't what he was supposed to excel at. In his parents eyes, at least.

He was a boy; he should be into sports, running around in the dirt, making a mess of everything. He didn't though, he got outcasted. And Maisie was just the apple of everyone's eye.

She was quiet, shy, and very _-very- _sweet.

Apparently having the strange habit of answering any type of question, with a cocked head, a confused expression, hands held together behind her back, and foot making circles on the ground while shyly mumbling a _"I don't know" _made her the most adorable thing to ever set foot on earth.

You couldn't even call what people did fawning, it was full out obsession.

Blaine had tried to deal with it at first, trying to convince himself that sports were fun, and that's what little boys like him should be doing.

He was a good actor; anybody knew that, it helped him out in tough situations. He would never be good at sports though, not even a miracle could help that matter. So although Blaine tried his hardest to meet his parents expectations, he was never good enough, they still preffered Maisie.

He was thirteen when he started rebelling.

It had started with silly things like refusing to do the dishes, or not taking out the trash.

It had evolved of course, and as he turned fourteen, he started smoking, drinking, and hanging with the wrong crowd.

If a disappointment was all he was to his parents, why not start by acting like one?

It was a mantra; he said it to himself every night when he started doubting. It was the only thing he could do, maybe then they'd start appreciating the old Blaine for who he really was.

But slowly -not slow enough though- the old Blaine faded away. All that was left was a confused boy who didn't know who he was anymore. So he stuck to what he was most used to. And that's how he became the world's biggest screw up.

There had been many occasions throughout his life that Blaine had wondered if his sister really deserved to be hated so much. She hadn't really asked for it all, so why should Blaine blame her?

Those moments where only brief though, when remorse took over him at the sight of how lonely his sister actually was.

It had happened quite a few times, though Blaine tried to ignore it, that Blaine would be absentmindedly walking down the hall, looking for a book in the library, going to the kitchen for a snack when, suddenly, all he could hear where soft sniffles from not far away.

The more he neared, the louder it got, he could hear chocked out sobs and whimpering. The first time he'd been confused, the others he'd known what to expect.

He'd found Maisie curled up on the floor, in front of some shelves, her face tucked away into her knees, and her hands wrapped around her ankles.

The sobs shook her body, and to Blaine, although for a very brief moment, it had felt like his heart was clenching, just at the sight of the girl.

The shelves where full of trophies and certificates off all the things she'd accomplished. There where golden medals that glimmered in the light, trophies that shone.

Other than that though, the room was quite devoid of anything else. It was bare, walls and sheets and practically everything in sight coloured a blinding colour of white.

It reminded Blaine of a hospital room, shortly he thought about how it was all the more fitting for the broken girl who inhabited it, anyway.

The strong pull at his heart loosened as he thought of all the times he'd cried because of this girl. Of all the times his heart had been broken for the lack of acceptance he was given.

With a turned up nose and a sneer, he left her there, sobs racking her body as she clung to the only thing she could, herself.

He ignored the memory whenever his mind bought it up again; he pushed it away and left it for another time to deal with. Maisie might look about ready to break, but Blaine was already broken. He shouldn't care, he shouldn't feel remorse. All he should feel was how much she deserved it, for putting him through misery, for making everybody love her when she didn't deserve it.

Blaine was fifteen when he broke his younger sister. For good, or for the time being.

It had started off as a normal Monday evening. The curly haired teen was out at the supermarket, they'd run out of milk at home, and he really wanted some cereal.

Hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, he haughtily made his way down the aisle, his posture straight and his shoulders stiff.

Even if he looked the part, Blaine still wasn't quite up to scratch with the badboy persona.

He didn't know how to not give a damn, how to be laid back and let life run its course. He didn't like being rude, he didn't like being called a hooligan, a delinquent. He put up with it though, just to feel the thrill of his parents hiding away in shame.

They were hardly home lately, the first chance they got at taking business trips they took, that left only Blaine and Maisie in the huge house they were forced to call home.

They never crossed each others paths.

He bent down, retrieving a carton of milk, and slowly stood back up again. From behind he heard an appreciative whistle.

There was a boy there, a little older than himself maybe, with brown eyes and messy brown hair.

He wasn't anything special.

With a cheeky smile and a wink in Blaine's direction. He sauntered away, leaving the curly haired boy confused and dumbstruck.

Had he just been flirted with by another guy?

He'd known he was gay for long now, he'd known so very well, but he'd never actually acted on it.

The real Blaine slightly shone through, as a dazed smile stretched across his face as he made his way to the counter.

He didn't see him again for a while, but he still made sure he passed by that particular supermarket around the same time as their first meeting.

Eventually they had crossed paths again, as their hands brushed together while reaching for the same thing. Blaine had chuckled nervously, screaming at his brain to stop acting so dumb because it would ruin the whole badboy thing he had going.

The guy had only smirked again, grabbing Blaine's hand and placing something inside, sending him another wink as he walked away. The curly haired teen looked down to find a screwed up piece of paper with number written on it. This time it was a smug smile that pulled at Blaine's features.

This was new. New and very, very exciting.

It had been a week later when everything turned to crap. When he'd come sauntering into the house, late as always -knowing full well he'd been asked not to, since his sister had an important guest coming over-, and with a smirk signifying he didn't really care.

He'd stopped dead in his tracks though, at what he found.

His family gathered in the living room. His parents occupying one couch while the other was taken up by Maisie and an all too familiar face.

It caught Blaine off guard when it finally struck him. It was that guy from the supermarket.

His heart began beating faster.

That guy from the supermarket, the guy who was currently hand in hand with his sister, sending her gooey eyed looks and smiling goofily.

At his chocked out breath, his sister's confused gaze immediately locked on his furious one.

With one quick movement he'd been up the stairs and in his room. Smashing things and breaking things while thinking over and over again about just how much he hated his sister.

The one good thing he thought he could have, and she'd taken that too.

He cried himself to sleep that night, curled up on the floor in the remains of what once where his personal belongings, he cried and cried thinking about how pathetic he was.

About how much he hated Maisie. About how, deep down where he was too scared to venture, he didn't hate Maisie at all.

The months following had gone in a blur, Blaine had rebelled even more, becoming even more outgoing with what he did to upset his parents.

Maisie just radiated happiness though, and that kind of just blocked out all of Blaine's efforts. She'd never been seen like this before, happy, smiling, laughing all the time. She'd been lonely before, not really herself. The boy's name was Leo, he and Maisie were now officially an item. They spent every living minute together.

Blaine hated that.

What he really hated though, was how it was all just a big lie.

What Leo wanted was obviously the popularity and money, not Maisie.

All Blaine wanted was to make his sister realize that, because even if he was jealous, it was still heartless to let her be happy living a lie. Because eventually she'd be heartbroken, and strangely enough, Blaine didn't want that for his younger sister, didn't want that at all.

That's when the troubles came.

It had started off with a heated conversation between Leo and himself. And argument really, where Blaine had called the other boy out for trying to make a move on him.

They'd all been at the dinner table, Blaine off in his own world hoping to god that it would soon be over when he felt heat push at his foot, something rubbing against him as Leo's gaze locked on his. His push moving up and up and Blaine nearly lost it.

He flung himself away from the table sending an accusing glare the other boy's way, his parents just tutted and Maisie sent a curious look his way. In turn he sent her a pained one, trying to convey his thoughts through it. She only looked all the more confused.

He'd left then, trailing behind him a long line of curses about how shitty family dinners where.

A few days later Leo had tried again, this time cornering Blaine in the kitchen, while his parents where out and Maisie was upstairs.

He'd pushed him up against the counter. Mumbling something by the lines of _"I've been waiting to do this for the longest time"_ and moving in to crash his lips onto Blaine's.

Blaine had managed to halt him though, pushing him away quick enough and sending him an icy glare.

_"You're dating my sister!"_

At that Leo had smirked

_"That doesn't mean I _actually _ like her."_ he'd trailed off _"You're all the more...appetizing. She's not really my type."_

It was the first time in his life that Blaine had come first to his sister, it only made him feel all the worse.

He was furious; everything he'd ever wanted was for something like this, for him to be better in some way.

But not in this way, not at all.

_"Whatever, I'm leaving."_

He'd shoved passed the taller boy, making it all the way to the front door before being shoved against it.

_"You're not going anywhere, fag."_ Leo had stated, his face leering at Blaine.

Blaine had just scoffed _"Fag? Really?"_ he scoffed _"What does that make you, then?" _All he got was another shove against the door.

Before he knew anything hot lips were on his and his body was bound to the door, he couldn't get away. He flailed, kicked his legs, tried to shout out. Nothing worked.

And then, like a savior sent from heaven,_ "L-leo?" _Had been a strangled choke from behind them. Said boy stopped dead in his tracks. Blaine could see the fear in his eyes. No remorse, no guilt, just fear.

Fear of loosing all what dating Maisie Anderson entailed.

He'd been yanked off of Blaine and flung away with such brutal force that Blaine wouldn't have believed it was Maisie that had done it. It was only that he'd witnessed it with his own eyes that he could.

Her bright eyes where devoid of all emotion as she paused, he flinched awaiting for whatever physical damage would be sent his way. The pain never came though, he cracked one eye open.

Before him was Maisie, hunched over and breathing heavy, her eyes shining with the tears that where still yet to fall and also filled with a pained expression that Blaine would never wish on anybody.

Leo was clutching tightly at his rapidly reddening cheek, a wide hand mark slapped across it.

_"Get. Out." _Maisie had said voice too calm to be accompanying the look in her eyes. Leo made no move of leaving.

_"Get. Out!"_ She screeched again, shoving him hard against the door until he scrambled out at full speed.

Time stood still as their eyes locked together. Blaine was awaiting what was to come his way now. What he got was far from it.

Maisie visibly crumpled before him, her face twisting with a miserable expression and her body collapsing to the floor. She stayed on her knees, her face buried in her hands as the sobs racked her body.

It reminded Blaine of the girl he saw so long ago, of the broken shell of what was supposed to be a person. Before he knew it his arms where wrapped securely around hers. He paused; waiting her to flinch away, or tell him to not touch her and that she hated him. She didn't though, she just cried harder.

That night Blaine cried himself to sleep again. But unlike any other nights, he cried in unison with the small body intertwined in his.

They were both broken. Why not be broken together?

It didn't last though, even if Blaine was expecting them to somehow bond over what had happened, he'd woken up alone. He'd figured his sister had only needed comforting for the time being, and since Blaine was the only one around, Blaine was who she clung to.

And even if it weren't that, what should he have expected? After years and years of neglect, he couldn't just expect her to magically accept or forgive him.

And that's how life went on.

He stopped being rebellious, he just let everything run its course.

He thought about all the things he had done that had embarrassed his parents and tarnished their reputation so much, that they hardly showed their faces anymore.

Blaine was gay and that, to them, was a sin.

The night that Blaine officially came out to his parents, and to a deflated, ghostly-looking version of his sister, he would often recall as the worst night of his life.

They were seated in the living room, Blaine opposite his parents, and his sister a way off, looking out the window in a world of her own.

His father and mother's appalled faces would stick with him forever.

They kicked him out, and he'd never expected it to hurt that bad. But it did, and that's what killed him.

Blaine spent the first four nights in a dingy motel, laying in bed drinking and smoking. He was surprised, to say the least, when one night at early hours of the morning he'd received a text.

_Mama and Papa are wrong, Blaine. There's nothing wrong with you. Come home._

It was an unknown number, but really? There was only one person it could be from.

It had shocked him, left him in a mess. All his life he had clung to the idea that his younger sister was as bad as anybody else, if not worse. That she liked seeing Blaine fail, and feel miserable.

Those distant memories from long, long ago where chucked straight back at him.

He chose to ignore it though, his sister might show signs of care towards him, it didn't mean they were true though. Or to be trusted.

After a week his father had brought him back home. Mumbling something or other about it being against his will and that a fag like him deserved what he'd gotten.

A short, nervous hug from his mother as he walked through the door had been why he'd originally thought she had taken pity, and sent for him to get brought back.

What he didn't expect was Maisie to be there waiting too, her face was blotchy and her eyes were red.

He heard the step creak as his foot landed upon it, his eyes were trailing after his parents, who where awkwardly making their way out of the hall and into the living room. He'd looked up, ready to make his way upstairs to lock himself away in his room for another night of wallowing in self-pity. She was at the top of the stairs, eyes frantic and searching his short figure for any signs of change. She'd been crying, that much was obvious, it didn't mean Blaine knew why, though.

As two pairs of hazel eyes locked together, she'd let out a sigh and came barreling down the stairs. Jumping a few and lunging at him.

He'd caught her easily, his arms fitting around her small frame perfectly as he clutched onto her as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She choked out a mumble of _"Blaine...Blaine, where were you? I missed you! Blaine!"_

They'd both cried themselves to sleep that night again, in each others arms finally finding someone to fully understand them.

It had taken some time and some rough bumps along the way, but they'd found each other. That was all that mattered.

That night was the start of a beautiful sibling friendship.

There's a dab of something moist against his lip, and Blaine is pulled back to reality. His eyes crack open as he lets out a cough.

"Blaine?"

He really wasn't expecting to hear that voice.

"Kurt?"

The body beneath him shifts a bit, and Blaine becomes aware that his head is laying on Kurt's lap.

There's a soft mumble of "Yeah..." that he barely catches. His eyes are too focused on the blue ones staring down at him. So many emotions that it hurts his head to try and decipher them.

A soft hand brushes his hair away from his eyes and a wave of heat is sent through his body, leaving the aching muscles feeling all tingly.

Kurt shifts again and the air changes. Blaine knows what's coming.

"Why exactly..." He trails off, "Why did you get sent to reform, Blaine?"

And oh, wow, now that he wasn't expecting.

* * *

><p><strong><em>[AN]: So...reviews? They make me really happy! :)_**

**_Also, **_Thanks so much to my beta, who is as totally awesome as can be! :D_**_**


	9. Chapter Nine

Back then, before everything turned to crap, just when things started brightening up, Blaine and Maisie had found each other. Since then, to most of their family and friends' surprise, they'd spent every moment of their time together. Whether it be studying, or watching TV, or simply being in each others presence. They'd always be together.

Maisie liked to sing, that much was obvious ever since she was a child and her parents first found out. Blaine sang too, of course, but he was a boy and it wasn't normal. He could play a vast amount of musical instruments too, his favourites being the guitar and the harmonica.

They'd never sung together though, that's something Blaine had promised himself he'd never do. Ever since he was younger, when his jealousy for his sister had first been planted within him. There would be no way, in all his life would he ever, cave in to singing with Maisie.

No matter how much his mother -she at least didn't like to show favoritism, and tried to string him into the spider web of Maisie's many talents as often as possible- tried to get him to just sing -at least- one song with his sibling, Blaine always declined.

Music was the only thing he truly enjoyed, the only thing that really made him happy. Singing alongside Maisie would ruin that, because as always she'd outshine, outshine him, and that was one of the things he feared most.

As stated, he'd always been neglecting of his sister. Jealousy brought out the worst in him, changed him into someone horrible. Music always shoved that out of the picture though, once he'd start playing, once he got lost in the music, the world would be gone to him. He reveled in that feeling as often as he could.

There had been many occasions as a child where Blaine would shy away into the perfect hiding spot and just let the music flow through him, forget everything else. It was him, his guitar, and his voice. Nobody could ever hear him, nobody could ever see him. It was bliss.

All too wrong he was, though.

Maisie, on one of her many escapades to hidden nooks in the former Anderson manor, escaping from the hoards of fawning women her mother occasionally had tea with, had come to encounter the attic stairs.

She'd never been brave enough to go up there, she always stood behind her mothers legs when the occasion arose to utilize the attic. At Christmas for example, when her father and Blaine would both venture up there for the decorations, she would stand back and just look up into the square shaped opening of the ceiling into the black depths that never seemed to end.

It terrified her.

She didn't like being in the dark, she didn't like being alone in the dark.

What if she went up there and somehow managed to get locked in? With nobody to hold her and tell her it was alright, she'd simply go mad, she was sure of that.

So to say the least, she was in shock when she came to face the pull-down stairs of the attic. It wasn't Christmas -it was July, for heavens sake- so who on earth could be up there?

They weren't all the way pulled down, the stairs, it seemed as a half-ass attempt at closing them from above, and they'd just opened up again of their own accord coming to rest mid-air just above Maisie's head.

There was soft strumming coming from above, wafting and circling around her through the air. It was a guitar, which she was sure of, and only Blaine could play guitar.

Blaine, her elder brother, who she looked up to with too much admiration for such a small girl, Blaine who despised her, who hated her.

It made her stomach hurt, that thought.

Smoothly and ever so softly, then, came the barely audible tune of Blaine's voice. He was singing. Maisie wasn't aware that Blaine sung.

.

_"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?"_

.

Blaine was smart, that she was sure of, and he was a great actor too. She'd often secretly -hidden outside his bedroom door- listened to him recite countless plays or movie dialogues. All different genres. And although she was only at a tender age, she still understood what it was to be special, and that was what she saw in Blaine.

He was special.

He could sing, he could act, and he was the smartest person in the whole wild world for like ever.

.

_"Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, the girl who has everything?"_

.

Standing on her tip-toes, she stretched her arms high above her head in a failing attempt to reach the stairs.

Placing two feet back on the ground, she huffed crossing her arms. This just wasn't working at all, was it?

.

_"I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty. I've got whozits and whatzits galore"_

.

Starting to get restless, she tried the same technique as earlier, wiggling her fingers even more hoping that maybe, just maybe, they'd take pity on her and grow a bit longer.

They didn't though. She huffed again.

.

_"But who cares? No big deal, I want more"_

.

Rapping the pads of her fingers across her jaw, she gets an idea.

Going on tip-toes again, she stretches upwards with her fingers wiggling towards the stairs. Just when she's about to touch, she jumps, fingers twisting securely around the last step she pulls it down.

It creaks, she pauses.

Blaine is going to find her, and then he will be angry, and then he will hate her even more and just no- she can't let that happen, because she loves Blaine, he's her big brother and that's what little sisters do to big brothers. They love them.

Big brothers were always supposed to love them back though, no matter what.

Blaine hated Maisie.

The gentle strumming of the guitar doesn't stop, Blaine's gentle voice flows onwards.

.

_"Up where they walk, up where they run, up where they stay all day in the sun"_

.

Slowly and carefully, she climbs up the steps stopping halfway and settling there. She can't go in the attic, Blaine will find her there.

She resigns herself to just hold on the steps and listen, that's the best she'll ever get.

.

_"Wanderin' free- wish I could be, part of that world"_

.

Sighing, Maisie settles herself more securely on the step, curling her arms around her and burying her face in them.

.

_"What would I give, if I could live out of these waters? What would I pay, to spend a day warm on the sand?"_

.

It's soothing and soft and she just can't get enough. If only she wasn't like she was, if only Blaine loved her back... She'd be able to listen to him sing all day.

Tell him how wonderful he was.

Tell him he was the coolest big brother in the world, even if he liked to sing, or act, or just didn't like getting dirty like other big brothers.

Tell him the world was wrong, tell him he was amazing.

Tell him he was perfect.

.

_"Ready to know what the people know, ask 'em my questions and get some answers"_

.

Why was Blaine so sad all the time? Was it because of Maisie? Was that why he didn't like her?

If only mama and papa could see how great Blaine was, just like she did herself, maybe then they could all be happy. And maybe Maisie would finally get to know what it was like to have Blaine as an older brother.

.

_"What's a fire and why does it- what's the word? Burn?"_

.

Slowly, very slowly, she made her way back down the stairs.

.

_"When's it my turn, wouldn't I love, love to explore that shore up above?"_

.

Feet hitting the ground, her toes curl by instinct at the cold surface, her arms once again wrapping around her body. She sniffs, turns her head up, and walks away.

Going over all the if only's wouldn't do her any good.

Because mama and papa would never see Blaine for who he truly was, and Blaine, in return, would never dissipate the grudge he held against Maisie for it.

She sniffed again.

.

_"Out of the sea, wish I could be, part of that world."_

.

So really, right now in present time, now that things had finally turned and changed for the good, it didn't come as a surprise to Maisie when she came to pass under the attic stairs and once again, like all those years ago, heard the soft strumming of guitar strings.

It had to be Blaine, surely.

A wide grin broke out on her face as she -without having to go on tip-toes- reached for the half pulled down stairs and started climbing.

Because Blaine didn't hate her anymore. Blaine was now her proper big brother.

If possible, her smile widened.

Hands clenching around the opening, her fingers splayed out on dusty wooden floor as she hurled herself up. It wasn't small, the attic, but it wasn't big either. Blaine was curled up on the far end, to the right, next to the big circular window. Blankets pooled around him and his guitar was perched across his lap as he lazily strummed.

He didn't sing, he just looked at ease, serene, like nothing could bother him. It almost made Maisie's heart ache to interrupt him.

"Blaine?"

He jumps up, hiding his guitar behind him, a stricken dear-in-front-of-headlights look plastered across his face. He breaths in, biting his lip.

Taking Maisie's small form in, he exhales. "It's you." He states.

"Yeah..." Maisie trails off, eyes curiously scanning the little den Blaine had set up for himself.

There were a few posters of bands, singers, Broadway plays, and the lot. Also there were various blankets and cushions, a few books scattered here and there too. What surprised Maisie the most was the small notepad the laid by Blaine's feet, filled with scribbles in his unintelligible writing.

"What's that?"

"Stuff."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Why do you care?"

They huff, crossing their arms and pouting. It's only a matter of seconds before they burst out in giggles at the silliness of it. So many years apart had kept them at bay of the fair share of similarities they shared.

"They..." Blaine hesitates, "They're song lyrics, I...I used to write when I was younger."

Maisie yearns to ask to look, but her brother's wary expression tells her not to pry.

"What were you playing just now?" she ops for instead, settling herself down on one of the blankets and grabbing a pillow to clutch on to. A habit she'd picked up over the years.

Blaine looks down at her, at how she's completely at ease around him in such a short matter of time, a small smile forms at his lips.

"I don't know, just something that came to my head. I think I used to play it when I was younger, but I can't quite remember it well."

He sighs, eyes glazing over while memory after memory flows passed his mind of all the years he'd spent being somebody he wasn't. Of how much of his childhood he lost because of jealousy, rage, and being flat-out stupid.

"I-" It's his sister that hesitates this time. "I think I recognize it..." she mumbles, barely above a whisper. Fear clouds her eyes, waiting with a batted breath at her brother's reaction.

It comes as a surprised when he simply plops himself down opposite her and starts strumming away at his guitar again. "Sing then." He says simply, and with a wide grin, that's what Maisie does.

_"Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?"_

Recognition pools in Blaine's eyes as he listens to his sister. He thinks maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay from now on.

...::::...

Blaine shakes his head, mind still filled with old memories and not allowing him to think.

"Why I got sent to reform?" he asks for like the tenth time that evening.

"Yes," Kurt snaps back, playing out to be irritated, but a curious look plaguing his eyes.

Blaine's head falls back slightly as his fingers interlace from their position on his lap. He closes his eyes, trying to rid his mind of all other remaining memories than the ones he actually needs to visualize.

And _ah, there it is._

...::::...

Life went on as normal, of course, how could it not? Just now that Blaine stopped acting like he despised Maisie; it just went on much easier.

Everything that was dull, grey, black, now had rays of light shooting in from every angle. Breaking through the constant cape of dreariness and making everything seem okay for once.

He was still on edge about the whole Leo debacle, though. He couldn't get the thought of his sister secretly, although it be hidden away in her head, still blaming him. In some way, at least.

Every time they were in each others company, whether attending family dinners or simply going grocery shopping together, whenever Blaine said something silly, or mildly funny that sent his sibling into fits of laughter; at first he'd join in, delighted by the fact that things hadn't been permanently ruined, but then it'd die down, and although Maisie launched right back into a different topic of conversation, Blaine still had the distinct feeling that something bad was going to happen.

The ominous sense of foreboding that seemed to surround everything he looked at just wouldn't go away. He feared it would mess things up, if only he could prevent that.

That's what found him up in the attic, perched on some blankets, head leaning against the window and a cigarette tucked between his lips.

His parents seemed cheerier these days. They went on less business trips in favour of family time. It seemed that now that Blaine had calmed down slightly, although didn't let go of his badboy attitude, had settled things with them too.

Maisie was ecstatic, happy as could be, that now their parents had come to terms with everything, and accepted to let their kids be free to do what they please. Their father had even started to wither in his fierce appendance to his daughter wanting to join the football team.

That had been something that always got on his nerves, how both of their kids seemed to have the preferences the other should. To him, Maisie liked boy things and Blaine liked girl things.

He hadn't liked that one bit, when first coming to the realization; now he saw it as an inevitability and just let things flow at their own pace.

A small chuckle escaped Blaine's lips after he let out another puff of smoke. His sister had been like a hyper-active monkey that day, when she came barreling into the attic with the news of being able to join the football team. For once in his life Blaine was happy that she'd got what she wanted, now realizing that all her life she'd gone without.

Taking a last drag of his cigarette, he stubbed it out on the floor. Placing both hands spalyed out on the ground beside him and hurled himself upwards, brushing off his clothes as he made his way out.

He was supposed to be in school right now, but had bunked off for not feeling too well. The sense of uneasiness that always clung to the back of his mind was at full force and he couldn't bare to spend one more minute listening to teachers drone out about goodness knows what.

He had to be there soon though, because he'd promised to walk Maisie home. He was going to be late though, that he knew.

Cursing at himself, he slid on his leather jacket once reaching the bottom of the stairs, and at once, flew out the door. He jogged halfway there, dodging the herds of students that passed him. Would his sister be upset? Would she think he'd forgotten her? Or worse, what if she thought he'd just left her there stranded?

He ran faster.

...::::...

Sat primly on the sofa, legs crossed and hands placed upon them, Kurt gives Blaine a snarky look.

"I don't see how this has anything to do with you being sent to a reformatory institution."

Blaine sighs, rakes his hands through his hair in a vain attempt at not loosing his temper. "If you stopped interrupting, we'd get to that part soon enough."

Kurt just looks away with a bored expression and a turned up nose.

...::::...

_"Where do you think you're going?"_

_"Away from you!"_

There's a shuffling sound, hurried footsteps, inhaling of breath and a yelp.

_"Get off me!"_ Maisie's voice rings out in the distance, and from not to far away Blaine shoots towards it like a bullet.

He'd managed to get to the high school kind of in time; he was late, yeah, but not too late. What had left him at a loss though is that Maisie wasn't there. He'd been searching for over twenty minutes now, too, and to no avail.

That's went he paused, facing the entrance of a well-known park in their neighborhood. He'd heard voices but, surely not- And then Maisie had screamed and he was off. Running as if he was being chased by the police -which he had, on manier occasions and had only been caught once or twice-.

What he'd found hadn't surprised him, there they stood, both Maisie and her former boyfriend, Leo. His hand clutching tightly at her wrist as she tried to tug it away.

"_What the fuck, do you think you are doin'?"_ Blaine snarled out stepping closer.

_"Taking back what's mine,"_ The taller boy spat back, glaring at Blaine. Maisie simply tried to tug her hand away with even more force.

_"Just go away, will you? I don't belong to you!"_ She screeched out

_"What, so you think its okay, what you did to me?"_ He paused to let out a dark laugh, witch Maisie took as an opportunity, stomping on his foot and yanking her arm free of his grip.

_"You bitch!"_ Leo yelled, making move to hurt Maisie. Blaine, two steps ahead of him, flew forward, pinning him to the closest nearby surface.

_"Take that back you lousy piece of shit!"_

Leo let out another dark laugh, locking eyes with Blaine. _"I wonder how it must feel, to be her."_ He paused, surveying the shorter boy's reaction, _"I mean, if the only way I can get someone to like me is through popularity and money? I'd be ashamed. I think that's worthless. She's worthless."_

Blaine saw red. Gripping tightly onto the others shoulders, he hurled him towards the ground. Once there, sprawled out and defenseless, he wasted no time in tackling him, throwing in a punch just for good measure.

_"I'd say the only worthless person here is you, who used somebody as innocent and as caring as my sister just to look good!"_

Leo just looked up at him, unfazed. Maisie stood far away, just looking in on the whole debacle, not knowing what to do.

_"I guess you'd know all about being worthless though, wouldn't you Blaine? I mean, hidden by your beloved sisters shadow all your life, than must be tough."_ He laughed, making a pout face, mocking Blaine.

Slowly, very slowly, something uncurled inside the shorter teen's body. Years of pent up anger and sorrow slowly bought to light. Grabbing onto the lapels of Leo's blazer, he shook him, making sure to slam his head into the ground.

He snickered, _"But I'm right though, aren't I? All your life you've been second best, why not just let me make use of her, and then we can all be happy?"_

_"That doesn't even make sense, you piece of scum!"_ He screamed out, fists flying no longer being able to hold his anger in. Faintly he could recognize the pleading tone of his sister in the background, lithe fingers tugging at the back of his jacket to no avail.

Oddly calm and with a menacing grin Leo just layed there and let himself be punched and tugged and slammed and hit. Nobody noticed the tell-tale cheekiness of his grin, he knew something, something they didn't.

_"Just think about it Blaine, If you let me have her again, It would be enough to get her out of the picture. It'd just be you then Blaine, after I'm done with her. She'll be so broken that nobody else will take interest. It'll be everything you've ever wanted."_

Breathing out roughly, Blaine proceeded to lay out another series of punches.

_"You're such a twisted-" _punch_"deranged-"_ punch _"-sick person! Who would ever think of that?" _He punched him again.

Leo laughed darkly_, "It's not as if your sister would mind Blaine, being used. It's the only thing she knows, don't you see?"_ The comment made Blaine slow down, inhaling and exhaling sharply. _"If only you knew, how craved for attention she really is..."_

Behind him Maisie gasped, through the endless bouts of sobbing and attempts to pull Blaine away.

_"What are you- what are you talking about?"_

Leo chuckles, _"Oh, so she hasn't told you?"_ He sends Maisie a grin. _"I guess _I'll _have to tell you."_

"_Please don't- Just don't listen to him Blaine, please, please don't!" _ Blaine ignores his sister's pleas, Leo now having all his attention.

_"You should see her Blaine, how she moans and screams just like a frigin' whore. Just so I would touch her, she's such a slut."_

_"Don't-Don't listen to him!"_ Maisie all but screams.

_"It's true Blaine, and she knows it."_ He lets out another of his endless laughs, _"If only you could hear her Blaine, see her. She just-"_

_"Shut up!"_ Blaine screeches, and at the pit of his stomach he can feel his anger unfolding. Electricity and adrenaline run through his veins as he lets himself go. He punches, kicks, thrashes.

Leo just lays there looking up at him with a knowing look, never once flinching away, never once fighting back. Blaine doesn't realize why until it's too late.

Three or four pairs of strong arms grab hold of him, yanking him away from Leo's now unconscious body. He doesn't understand at first, only just coming down from his high.

It's all hazy, he doesn't know what to think when his arms get pulled behind him, as the men push him up against a tree, and he gets cuffed. He doesn't understand why exactly he gets shoved into a police car, he doesn't understand anything.

The last thing he remembers seeing is a pair of hazel eyes looking back at him.

To say they looked disappointed, well, that would be putting it way to lightly.

...::::...

Hands matted in his hair, Blaine shakes uncontrollably; angry at himself for letting his emotions get the better of him.

Why on earth did he think it a good idea to tell Kurt?

The countertenor just sits immobile on another couch, knees pressed together and arms outstretched to lie upon them. He breaths in and out, eyes far away as if he doesn't know how to deal with the whole situation.

"You beat a guy up, then?" He asks, and to anybody else it would sound too casual. But Blaine knows Kurt, and he knows that that look he has etched across his face is the look he gets when he tries not to let his emotions be known.

Blaine watches him as he breaths out, eyes clenched shut.

"I-yeah." He stammers, unsure of what to say. "I was sent to juvie for assault. Leo didn't fight back, so it seemed like I just attacked him out of the blue. Nobody believed me when I told them he'd been taunting me." Blaine lets out a breath too, clenching his eyes shut, much like Kurt. "They sent me to reform after my first year. As long as I went to therapy three times a week, though. And at the first sign of acting up, I'd get sent back to juvie."

He sighs, re-opening his eyes. His look locks on Kurt, who still has that determined air around him, eyes tightly closed.

"Does that mean- after today...does that mean..." He can't seem to finish, Blaine understands the feeling.

"I don't know, I had motives this time. It just depends whether lucks in my favour, I guess." He lays back into the chair, trying to relieve himself of the stress this situation was causing him. His anger also needed dissipating.

He misses Kurt's jump, where he's perched on the sofa. His glare shot towards Blaine. His eyes wide open, filled with fury, anger, fear.

"If luck is in your favour?" He says, outraged standing up. "Is that all you have to say on the matter? You could be sent back to juvie, Blaine. Think about that!"

Blaine shoots up too, his meager attempt at staying calm flying out the window with no preamble.

"Do you really suggest I haven't, Kurt?" He yells, making his way to face Kurt. The few inches Kurt has on him seeming like much more now that he has Kurt glaring down at him with a killer glare. "I've been thinking about it ever since it fucking started! Ever since we fucking got home!"

Kurt doesn't say a word.

"Do you really think it would matter, though? I'm just a screw up, Kurt, this is what I do. I screw up. It's what people expect of me!"

_"Blaine Anderson!"_ Kurt breaths out in disbelief, "You are most definitely not, a screw up!" He lets out a harsh breath. "You may have screwed up, yeah, but you're no screw-up. You're just scared and confused and_...I don't know_, Blaine...I don't know..."

And he trails off, looking away, his eyes seemingly want to say much, much more. But Blaine doesn't think Kurt will handle it.

They lock eyes again, "You're so naïve, Kurt, do you really think that? I mess up everything I care about. Never in my life have I done anything right. I push people away and I disappoint them." He pauses and laughs lightly, "At least now they've all learned not to care about me."

A long silence stems from that, where they both just look at each other as if there's nothing else in the world. Nothing else that matters more.

"I care about you." It's barely a whisper, but Blaine hears it all too loud and clear.

In the matter of seconds his lips are crashing against Kurt's, his hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Kurt responds immediately, interlacing his own hands with strands of Blaine's hair as the other licks tentatively at Kurt's lips. He parts them with a gasp, Blaine seizing the opportunity, shoving his tongue roughly into Kurt's warm mouth.

There are a few moments where their tongues fight for dominance, Kurt letting go and Blaine winning out in the end.

They part, breathing heavily and never breaking their locked eyes.

Kurt backs up against the sofa, falling down on it with a plop and dragging Blaine too. The curly haired teen straddles his hips as they both begin kissing again. Hands running anywhere and everywhere just in search of warmth.

Everything is getting dizzy, the warmth of the others body engulfs them both and seemingly, they can't get enough. Blaine sucks on Kurt's tongue.

As Kurt lets out a rather loud -muffled- moan, deft fingers that were currently kneading at his stomach migrate downwards to tug at his belt. Slowly, so slowly, unbuckling it. Kurt's whole form goes rigid.

"Blaine, Blaine, stop- don't. I- I have to go." He pushes Blaine -who was still rather dazed- off of him. Standing and racking his fingers through his hair. He looks around the room with a paranoid glance.

He flinches when he feels two strong hands circle around his hips, fingers splaying and gently kneading the exposed skin there. Blaine just looks up at him, not knowing what he'd done wrong.

Kurt shuts his eyes, breaths in, and tugs Blaine's hands away from his body.

"I can't do this." He mumbled out, and like a lightning bolt, he's out of the living room and making his way to the door.

He doesn't know what his feelings are doing. First thing he knows he feels pity towards the other boy, which slowly, according to situation, soon became into anger. Now he's standing there, tugging on his jacket hastily, filled with unbridled lust and yearning towards him.

"Where are you going?"

Kurt turns slowly when he catches Blaine's breathless tone, "Home." He states.

"But-What...You can't just-" He scratches the back of his neck. "Why?"

"Why?" Kurt breaths out indignantly, disbelief laced in every letter. "Why on earth do you think, Blaine? Because what we were doing was wrong, and it's never going to happen again."

Blaine just smirks, "You say that every time it happens though. And you still keep coming back for more."

With an sour look, Kurt crosses his arms and glares at Blaine. "Think what you want, Anderson, but I don't want anything from you."

Moving closer and like normal, invading Kurt's personal space, he places his hands on Kurt's hips again and looks up.

"Now Kurt. You know that's not true."

Kurt does everything he can not to kiss Blaine again.

"It's wrong, Blaine."

And at that, Blaine's baffled. He chokes on his words, "Wrong?"

Kurt hesitates, in fear of sounding naïve, or stupid. "There are no feelings involved; therefore, I'm not interested." There's another one of those long pauses, the ones Kurt's grown so familiar to experiencing in Blaine's presence.

They lock eyes again, "And what makes you think that?" Kurt tries to avoid the breathlessness in Blaine's voice.

"I meant romantic Blaine. Not just lust."

A panicked look crosses Blaine's eyes as he hastily lets out a, "It's not just lust." He pauses, eyes switching to various object placed around the hall. Anything to not look into Kurt's bright, shining blue eyes.

"I-I think you're beautiful, Kurt." He finally allows himself to look up.

Shock crosses Kurt's features as he chokes out a gasp. Then weariness overtakes him and Blaine panics a little. "Nice try, Anderson," Kurt scoffs. "But I know full well that to you, I'm just someone you can get a rise out of. Somebody that, once you've slept with, you'll just chuck out like yesterdays garbage." He doesn't meet Blaine's eyes at all with the declaration.

"Kurt, no-" His hands come up to yet again cup Kurt's face, "Look at me, Kurt." He grits out softly, just the slightest bit demanding.

Kurt wavers a few seconds before finally turning around to face him. Blaine pauses, he thinks about his life before he met Kurt. Then he thinks back to now, where he has Kurt in his life.

Kurt was important, that Blaine knew, important to Maisie, at least. He'd added much needed cheer to her life as soon as they'd moved to Westerville. All the time Blaine was locked away, Kurt was working hard at keeping her happy.

At least that's as much as Maisie had told him. What would she be, without Kurt?

Blaine thinks about when he first met Kurt, to how enthralled he was by the boy's beauty. The thought of Kurt had kept him up manier nights after that. And what about when Maisie, unbeknownst to their previous meeting, hired Kurt to be his tutor? He'd been ecstatic then.

He'd thought that, maybe, If he played his cards right, He'd get on Kurt's good side. They could be friends, to start off, and maybe, just maybe, Blaine could weedle him into something more. They'd be friends with benefits, but friends, nonetheless.

That plan took a turn for the worst though, when Kurt turned out to be more stuck up and bitchy than he'd expected. He through everything Blaine had been expecting off balance.

That excited Blaine, to no end, really.

He thought back to the few times they'd kissed eachother, what it had felt like. How electricity seemed to run through Kurt, giving Blaine pleasurable shocks every time they touched.

Or even when they were just in each others company, when Kurt was tutoring him. How it had made Blaine feel funny inside, how he got butterflies in his stomach whenever Kurt's eyes locked with his while trying to conjugate verbs in French.

Blaine thought of life without Kurt now, and that, it seemed almost unbearable.

He feels the warmth of Kurt's body radiating off of him, the hands he has placed on Kurt burn. He can't let go though, he can't move away. It's all too much, but Blaine will take it, if it means being close to Kurt.

And that's when the light bulb pings above his head and he just knows. "I really care about you, Kurt." He breaths out, and then he tilts his head just so-so. Moving in ever so slowly. He hears Kurt's breath hitch, he doesn't back down. He's nearly there; he can feel Kurt's hot breath ghosting over his lips.

And then Kurt pushes him away. Turning around, letting out a choke as a hand flys up to his lips.

"I'm not a cheap whore you can just play around with, Blaine."

Said boy shoots forward, hand reaching out to grab at Kurt's wrist. Just as his fingers brush against it though, Kurt yanks it back and holds it against his chest as if it had burned.

"Don't- Don't touch me!"

"But Kurt, I-"

Everything stops as Blaine looks onwards. Kurt's crying, his shining blue -or where they grey? - orbs glistening with the tears yet to fall. "Just leave me alone, Blaine." He breaths out, voice trembling. He turns, reaches for the door.

_"Kurt."_

His head turns ever so slightly and Blaine can see how Kurt's body trembles, how he's trying to fight back a sob. He wraps one arm around his waist as he slowly twists the door knob with the other.

"I'll get Maisie to get you a new tutor, okay?" He sends a faint smile Blaine's way. "Just...Just forget about me though, that's my only condition. Once I'm out this door, it'll be like I never existed." He opens the door a crack, Blaine panics, taking several steps forward.

"Don't' do this Kurt, you don't have to do this. We'll talk things out, okay? I...I- Don't leave." His eyes survey the room, holding back unshed tears. "What about Maisie?"

Kurt chuckles now fully facing the door, his back to Blaine.

"She'll live. She has you."

Blaine chokes out a sob. "What about _me_?"

Kurt just looks down, shakes his head and fully opens the door and, once again Blaine's life is through completely off balance. He wants to move, grab Kurt and show him just how much he means to him.

Everything stops. Blaine's eyes glaze over completely now as he can hardly contain the sobs waiting to erupt through him. He feels bare and vulnerable, as if something vital had been ripped out of his body. Everything aches, he just wants to roll over and die.

_"Kurt?"_

And now Maisie is there, outside the door, looking on with a confused look. She has bags under her eyes and looks like she hasn't slept. Her hair is tousled and limp and her clothes are wrinkled. Blaine guesses it's probably because she'd been left to deal with the whole shopping debacle. She'd never dealt well with stress, afterall.

Kurt just looks at Maisie, a blank stare that is of no help to the confused one Maisie sends his way. _"I'm...I'm sorry." _He manages to mutter out, and then he's gone.

Both Anderson siblings just stand there for what seems like hours on end. They can hear the wind flow by, the cars drive pass, the gentle laugh of children playing in nearby gardens.

Maisie turns to him, hurt plaguing her features as she tugs at her sides with the arms she has wrapped around her. Trying as it seems, to hold herself together as tears freely flow down her cheeks.

_"What did you do?"_

Everything slowly, so slowly, starts moving again. Blaine has never felt like he's screwed up more in his entire life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>[AN]: So, what do you think? Kinda bad, really bad, or completely horrible? I think I'll go with the last option...**_

_**Reviews? They make me smile! **__**Also, my tumblr:**_

_**becauseilikepenguins(dot)tumblr(dot)com **_


	10. Not Chapter Ten

Well, first off I'm going to apologize because whenever this happens to me I always feel utterly _betrayed, _and I can't even stand the thought that I'm actually doing this, but alas I am, so sorry.

This is not a chapter, sorry if you expected it to be one. I just wanted to inform anybody that might be reading this that it's no longer going to get updated (I'm pretty sure nobody even cares, but anyway) since I've decided to delete it, because, quite francly, it's starting to irritate and stress me out.

Something's wrong with it, I don't know what (it sucks, that's what), but I read through it a few months ago, and absolutely hated it, so I started to re-write it. I got up to chapter 4 I think. Even now, when I read through it again, it's all wrong and I can't stand it, so I'm deleting it, because I don't really feel comfortable with people reading this utter piece of _crap. _

So yes, I'll save the chapters to my computer incase one day I actually feel like this is worth trying to re-write again, but for now, no, I hate it, I want it gone.

I'd apologize, but then again I don't really expect anybody to be reading/liking this, so yeah.


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